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STRAY BIRDS 180 sunshine greets me with a smile.

The rain, his sad sister, talks to my

181 flower of the day dropped its petals forgotten.

In the evening it ripens into a golden fruit of memory.

182 like the road in the night listening to the footfalls of its memories in silence.

183 evening sky to me is like a window, and a lighted lamp, and a waiting behind it. [54]