The chirping of the birds in the morn,
The time of the day when roses are born,
The time of the first rays of the sun,
Is the spring of dawn.
Dawn then walks towards the day
As spring embraces summer.
The mangoes painted yellow lay,
For the first drops of rain.
Day comes across the sunset,
And summer changes into autumn.
The trees shed leaves and bare they get
To wear the snow of winter.
Sunset merges into the dark
As autumn gets lost in winter,
The roses lay under the grave
Waiting for the spring of dawn.
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