Air is calm,
and you can hear the wind is blowing.
I stand still,
try to hear the story of the wind.
See,
butterflies on the flowers,
birds on the sky.
I wonder what could make this stop?
Will you come to see what I see,
to feel what I feel?
If you will,
and tell me,
or I beg you,
you will give a minute to think of me.
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