Rasul Raessi


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The Summer

The season of the nakedness of water.
In the warmth of your hug,
what fruits that become ripe.
Under the shades of your trees,
what lips that give the fruit of kiss.
And what hugs that find each other.
Ah, o' Thou! summer.
Make my beloved eager for a kiss too,
under your causing thirst shades.

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