Slowly but magnificent in the atmosphere
So is success in the eyes of men
Who toil and find bones to eat
Which they so much cherish though
Slowly they would finally get what they want
Like the moon who would run not
Into coming out or going in
Surely someday would the desire destination
Until then, no resting on laurels
We shall surely bypass no disgusted honors
Which new born babies shall always until they eat solids?
There is a success in the moon
Not like its circle
Nor its bigger nature in small
But by it’s brighten status
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