Yongle VoynichAug 291 min readBlueDawn-birds warble. Their singing ruesThe aging night, as day construes,Wispy fronds: weep silver dew.From dawn to the morrow,Stars glitter true.In depths of sorrow:My sky bleeds blue.
Dawn-birds warble. Their singing ruesThe aging night, as day construes,Wispy fronds: weep silver dew.From dawn to the morrow,Stars glitter true.In depths of sorrow:My sky bleeds blue.
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