Schools, colleges, and universities,
Fruits that ripen in the moonlight’s reverie.
Cherry blossom’s fruits, shining on dead petals,
Their sweet scent spreads, crossing all the world’s vessels.

In the garden, warmth and snow entwine,
Tested by the fruit, a trial divine.
My heart, lungs, mind, and soul paid the price,
To taste the fruit, to see its paradise.

But when I reached that far and tasted,
The fruit was rotten, its beauty wasted.
Its scent now unpleasant, its glory gone,
The test of the fruit, a trial forlorn.

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