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Journey

On the branch in spring,
The blooming cherry blossom
Was held in her hand

Her lips a red rose,
Smiling at the newly bloomed
Flower of beauty

But sun and moon change,
The night and day will still come,
And time slips away

The ground turns to ash
The orange sky-spark is gone,
Because dusk is here

The little flower
Tumbled from her ashen hands
When the moon vanished

Flowers turn to dust
All things must come to an end,
This is our journey





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