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Words of black ink on the paper rest
Like the petals of the long time withered rose
Words of black ink on the paper rest - they stand still like
The petals of the long time withered rose
(Midnight letter not to cry)
(Midnight letter not to cry for solitude)
In the silence of the night
Thoughts often take different paths
With the glimpse of daylight
All the wonders of night time will fade away
