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How can I hew out a song when the hammer of my senses is coated with rust? How can I play the lute when my hand is ensnared in fetters of fear? For my heart has entered the gazelle’s paved [palace]…
O living and terrible God, replace my prison, this round pit, by a full moon and a goblet. Pray, turn the darkness of my hell into a shining light, and this dwelling-place of dusk into an orchard, a…