Reaching Melancholiah
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A pond portrays mirage.
Which mirrors deep space - deep space
I dive again into pleasures
By taking myself to the pond
I preceive the place where I lost my love
Now, only grey woods are standing in the frost
I touch it I feel it my faded love
I'm somewhere here, but I can't behold!
Brooks streams and sombre liquid lies in vague pond
Lamenting sounds from cathedral we hear... or do we?