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On the page of my story I searched for you,
to find your love was my most faithful wish.
When I wrote my first poem, so sweet paper,
I imagined that you, with my verses, I reached.
Where did you hide your life to melt into mine?
On a tree I carved your name, eternal and serene.
Every glance of yours kept in my bosom,
that red rose turned into cold nostalgia.
Time searching for you, tireless goes on,
in what story will I find you, my longed-for flower?