Oh You, what You want I know not.
Through liila's sport, Yourself why,
In the front You come not?
Passionately I hold dear;
Coming, why don't You yield?
Secretly in a corner of psyche,
What You get, You tell not.
Dense darkness of a new-moon night,
Enveloping, Your luster hides.
All the anxiety of an atomic mind,
You don't levitate, but why not?
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Why that's so, Lord, I don't know.
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