So sweet, sweet is the rose that jostles,
That northernly wind that breathes cold
Surely deposits a vapour that lasts,
How fair; she was surely defiant of it,
Stood in the midst of nature, calling me;
Breathes not her fumes but mine aura,
Let not the sun once risen set upon her,
Lost again is she that fades in the dark;

But if I am to take the tunnel downward,
There I shall meet her in the dark, the dark;
No light for the few that tremble darkness, darkness;
For the darkness binds to my soul weeping, weeping;
For lack of mine if not so mine;- hers greater, greater;
Yet mine heart, mine angst, could never define her, define;
As beautiful as she, so light brilliant that me blinds, blinds;
For life shall resolve me a better man; a man not lone, lone;

Since he stirs from the cavern and returns to light, to light;
Finally reaches the pillar of his own creation, undying;
At the close, breathes a new air and searches anew,
The love as once beautiful, shall remain so there,
To have slowly paced before thee and called me hither
Now gazes once more at a moon rising slow yet beloved;
Can I surely be forgiven for all I am but only just a man?
To home, my lady, is only to home as to our endearing lives.

Category:
Counterpoint, Poetry, Romance, Works
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