standing where I did many years ago same cool dawn same happy, perhaps tired people around, abound I recall a smile that thought I saw I wanted to create again But stopped in time what is the point?
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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