The muse comes to the chamber
With a sweet melody:
Let us sing alike!
Behold, all things are green:
Meadows, country, and forest
The morning sings its praises,
The hornbill sings
br/>At the bidding of nature,
Philomena complains
Ancient about the loss.
The birds sing beautifully,
The face of the earth smiles
In various colors,
And is released in childbirth
Scented with fragrance.

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