Now in another world I could learn to forget But 'til then I'm here making room for new regrets Now some flowers they never bloom And some flowers just bloom dead
Swerve from thy northern path; for westward rise The palace balconies thou mayst not slight In fair Ujjain; and if bewitching eyes That flutter at thy gleams, should not delight Thine amorous bosom, useless were thy gift of sight.
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