Let me sleep, a dream is left to be seen.
Standing in the doorsteps wetting in rain,
Rubbing off the pain of the cold feet,
Requiting the favor of a mind that never mellows,
The shadow that falls back farther so lonely
You are the color of night and its reverie.
Sometimes we might get chilled in this reverie so unknown,
Or awaited in glass bowls in tranquil of hope,
For the kiss of those lips in love.
Oh, the color of dreams that drenched down the rain,
Be wet, dissolve, flow on, disappear and be lost.
None calls from behind, and none augurs to call.
In the doorstep, in the rainy night
Let me sleep, a dream is left to be seen.
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