Toil with keenness of edification
Reverent to the wet buds of monsoon
Pert to the leaf from incineration
O eyes, what can you call it except boon?
Sometimes darkness becomes the heart of light
Wall of rim grows higher than probity
Dust of happiness are trapped in twilight
Rill of wrath sap the bridge iniquity
When the sky plummets but kills the devil
The last rime is melted by the hatred
The all-faced one is the force of mettle
And soul of the murk gets separated
The sword stands due to blood and the unseen
And the scabbard left with blithe and serene
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