There was something that the woman could not tell against the sun.
That's why she could only tell everything to the moonlight.
In the rustle of poplars, in the glow of the river, in the splendor of the wind, she thought of the willow trees.
And she heard the voice of the fir tree: "Love is a light too great to be one.
Some can see it, the majority choose to kill it. I know, those whose love is great; embraces the moonlight, not the sun."
The woman nodded yes, and the wind whistled through the branches of the fir tree and drove away.
Love should be smooth, and it should be able to hear voices other than its own.
Meral Meri - The Truth of Love
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