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Night
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heart is not dead

At night on the west building, snow fell.

People are as good as before, and they are sad alone.

Drink in thoughts and dance in drunkenness.

Who can listen to the grief? (Who knows?)

The strings of the piano are broken and the heart is chaotic.

A dream of thousands of miles, a soul cut off in the empty space.

The youth is old and shed tears.
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