On Shima's slope, a linden dreams

In my village, standing old and grand.

My heart—a bird—above it gleams

A watchful spirit, close at hand

Whispering tales to its golden leaves

Those of vibrant surge, and verdant flight.

Through sunlit days and moonlit nights

I watch it sway, so strong and free

A silent solace, an innocent delight 

The linden's magic touches me.

I...

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