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I am not lyric any more
I will not play the harp
for your pleasure
I will not make a joyful
noise to you, neither
will I lament
for I know you drink
lamentation, too,
like wine
so I dully…
Oh white spirit—
My princess!
The spring rips,
Tears at your dress.
The air is full of spring’s fame
Crowned with florets
Carrying its perfume
Spring’s fresh scents.
Bringing your death,
My white…