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Ghazal 5 The joy of the drop is to die in the river when pain is cureless pain is lost My weakness has weakened even my tears Believing now in evaporation Spring clear after heavy rains it seems the cloud has wept and died in its grief completely To understand the wonder of an air that cleans see how moss on the mirror grows in spring The rose is budding a desire for its witness her color and shape are silent but listen |