Seven seas to whisper your name.
Seven dreams to bless you.
The southwest wind curls by your door,
having walked this warm winter desert
after its journey from Mistletoe Mountain.
I'm like that wind, only
I ride the asphalt plain;
and when I settle beside you,
then by your side I'll remain.
Seven swans swim on the lake
as the solstice moon wanes
into the halo of your eyes.
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