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A Portrait of Grief and Pride

bees and butterflies polluted my body:

too much filth has lodged with me.

there have been lashing tempests

driving rains, any moon in such

would have lost its fullness, any flower

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its loveliness, so what is left for me'

Surely now in this mortal life

little remains for me to hope for.

full of shame when I look back

wondering how may I, mud of the ditch,

dare ever to become your wife.

knowing of your great love yet unable to look at the clear flame

if that lamp that would light

our bridal chamber: now

have I decided on absolute cellbacy

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