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  • July and August,
    Things are duller
    And people bothersome.
    My summer projects
    Sit like forever mismatched socks.
    My voiceless garden
    Cries without tears for precious water
    And my bed grows tired of my tiredness.

    I watch other loves sail by
    Through my silver screen close at hand
    And I listen to foreign songs
    Singing "saranghae", "sayounara"
    Waiting for me to buy a plane ticket.

    I'll be leaving this place soon,
    Learning more than just "saranghae".
    And I'll have my own audience
    Who claps even when I'm not there.

    In July and August,
    I watch the time go by like paint drying.
    Does it actually move?

    It doesn't move for me, at least.
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