Yourself do I cherish;
Why is that, I know not.
You may stay just remote or only near;
Am I far away, I think not.
The sun is red with Your color;
Blooms are dyed by Your love.
Sky and wind rise with a predilection:
Is it Yours, You say not.
At my mind's minuscule interior,
You stay hidden in what fashion?
With You at the same niche in private:
That I seek, do You fathom not?
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You give me what I want, but I recognize it not.
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