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To the Dragonfly, to the Moon.
The time I spent with you now flies away,
Like birds migrate, and I am led astray.
To shrouded days and terrifying nights,
To future spent, and to the lowest heights.
There I now see myself, away from you,
Regretful as the parting age subdued.
And children live, and older people thrive,
While I slowly die alone, decayed, deprived.
Oh tender flower in the thorny field,
To grievances and misery I yield!
I wish to see you now, and evermore,
But fate decided we should be no more.
I spend my days in thought and deep regret,
As if I owed to life a priceless debt.
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