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In your abandoned garden, sunlight still prevails: |
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The jasmine climbs the trellis fragrantly, the |
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jacaranda ultravioletly sways. |
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The blossom. each of them by your hand planted, |
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Will, even if I tell them of your sudden |
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Disappearance from us, |
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Not believe the tale. |
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Though the samba has ended, I know in the sound |
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Of your voice, your piano, your flute, you are found, |
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And the music within you continues to flow |
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Sadly, lost Antonio. |
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You were my inspiration, my hero, my friend; |
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On the highway of time will I meet you again? |
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If the heart ever heals, does the scar always show |
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For the lost Antonio? |
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For the lost Antonio? |
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In your abandoned garden, beauty is unchanged: |
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The hummingbird still hovers for the scent the |
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frangipane so seductively displays. |
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Camellias, each of them by your hand planted, |
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The sadness of your sudden disappearance still |
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unknown to them, |
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Await the kiss of rain. |
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Though the samba has ended, I know in the sound |
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Of your voice, your piano, your flute, you are found, |
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And the music within you continues to flow |
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Sadly, lost Antonio. |
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You were my inspiration, my hero, my friend; |
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On the highway of time will I meet you again? |
|
If the heart ever heals, does the scar always show |
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For the lost Antonio? |
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For the lost Antonio? |