If love is like the hotly burning sun,
With dazzling light and raging firing zeal,
What we are dreaming of and longing for.
Away so far is somebody from love.
They can only live in the cold and dark.
In dismal they are scared into trembling worms.
So closely somebody has reached to love,
Like flying moths darting into the fierce fire.
Abandoning themselves into their love,
In the brightest love they are sublimed up.
Some keep themselves safely from the love.
They are, however, the most blessed ones in love.
Exposed in warmth and peace of splendid love,
They are as happy as the heaven birds.
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