Night cries out, missing the morning, its child;
When evening appears it departs.
The stars plan to hide their fearing faces while
Dawn’s warm expression wrinkles up with a smile
Which seems a devious mischief
With the morning apart.
There is no hope for the twilight to look on the morning
Always, it is taken from reach.
For even in the strength of its mourning
The night cannot morning breach.
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