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Na Pili | ||
| The jungle trail is slick with mud (Perhaps an ancient dragon's blood). The leaves and vines are verdant green, A fitting vestment for a queen. The ridges sharp and cliffs so steep Have not awakened from their sleep. The streams roll down in swift cascade To show the world they're not afraid. The sea is gray, or green or blue: At whim it changes tint and hue. The showers come and go at will And all at once the scene is still. | ||
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