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Nature
The river that flows down the hill,
Is never able to be a moment still,
The rocks and pebbles at it's edge,
Lie as steady as the dead,
Leaves flying over my head,
But flowers of bunch have been dead.
© Lafz-e-Safar
Is never able to be a moment still,
The rocks and pebbles at it's edge,
Lie as steady as the dead,
Leaves flying over my head,
But flowers of bunch have been dead.
© Lafz-e-Safar
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