Little butterfly, my dear friend
Will you fly with me to the hillock’s bend?
We’ll prepare a swing on the marigold’s bough
And sway it happily, high and low
The limitless sky beckons us to touch
With every humble thrust, as much
The golden borders of the carefree clouds
That speak to us of the end of bounds
Up and down, back and forth
Swing we shall in merry mirth
Melodious refrains to hum along
With which we create our own song
Swing and sing we shall in rhythm
Our hearts shall touch the gold that’s within
Until the singer, song and singing
In one final swing, become the being
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