And like smoke of incense, a misty morn,

And like smoke of incense
With cold breeze's breath
The morn arrives misty dense,
Filling the heart's field with poetic sense,

And imagery of life,
Like a landscape draped in fog,
Curtained by a screen translucent,white,
Drops from angel's hands,
To sing the songs of soul,
Iike a holy rite.


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