Man who laid his hand upon me;
Everlasting gratitude on behalf of my inner king,
Repeat after me, as I rise:
Repeat the joy of this 8th-month love of the last piece.
Yuletide, I must celebrate with the virtual face!
Canticle of the moon, with the stars, he sings:
“Hear, hear, for I surrender my wrath.
Retell the story on how I was saved;
In this season, on the 25th,
Spirited persona of mine, thy light that shone
Throughout my entirety, towards me,
Mellow tune I dance on this precipice, but that was a former state.
And I kiss you in this distance,
Sealed with unfeigned floral-scented ribbons and stamps.
Mistletoe, below it, traditional kiss on the forehead, tracing your bridge to your softness,
Yearning the warmth of your breath on my bareness.
Love, Ahram, as the moon embraces your skin;
Oh, love of my light, through the Lord, I express my
Veneration towards Him, while I swear:
“Ephemeral love, and as I declare my gratitude to Him, for you—my personified salvation.”
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