Short of her breath was an erstwhile walk,
Shall she seek far the sun that hence brought,
She is singing through the whispers of thousand,
I am broken, my voice is; voice is, voice gone,
And my little ears can only hear so loud,
She is singing away, alas my voice cannot respond;
Though silent is my head as much noise my heart aches,
So drops the chalice of my tears into dark,
Alas, she can only walk for all a thousand,
She’s following the road to see herself,
She sees, then she sees, above all; she sees,
There was one tree that she encircled so casual,
But vain attempt that ere would never ere be guile,
Is her pursuit of myself so loving, so dangerous;
Would she confront the most darkened man alive?
I am sweet; I am strong; my tears fall; my heart aches,
Tis not my nature to esteem; I shall rest till then,
Who walks away without seeing me part for naught,
Betrays me here, sees me banished and rejoins,
A sight besought, a voice bespoke, a noisy love:
No moment does not pass without neither of us silent.

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