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Come, gardener ! Create
the glory of spring ! Make
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Guls bloom and bulbuls sing - create such haunts
!
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The dew weeps, and your garden lies desolate;
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Tearing their robes, your flowers are distracted.
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Breathe life once again into the lifeless gul
and the bulbul !
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Rank nettles hamper the growth of your roses.
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Weed them out, for look thousands
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Of hyacinths are crowding at the gate !
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Who will set you free, captive bird,
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Crying in your cage ? Forge with your own hands
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The instruments of your deliverance !
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Wealth and pride and comfort, luxury and authority,
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Kingship and governance - all these are yours
!
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Wake up, sleeper, and know these as yours I
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Bid good-bye to your dulcet strains. To rouse
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This habitat of flowers, create a storm,
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Let thunder rumble, - let there be an earthquake
!