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My beloved, your present
Must be a heartache,
Ah, it must be death
No, its name is not love
Love has left us
Ah, what could be done ?
There is a heart of glass in my aggrieved breast.
Henceforth, even if you come back,
These broken pieces will not be healed
You have gone,
Your smell is left in my pillow as a guest
Naughty rains have poured from my eyes.
Separation, you or love,
Which one could be my reason ?