Who will hear me out?
Which ears shall be attentive enough?
To listen with compassion to my pleas
Shall I buy thy time with money?
Shall all the gold of Ophir suffice thy demands?
Shall the dust by the way of the twin brooks be enough?
The brooks from which the soothing waters flow;
The brooks which satiate the thirsty souls,
Which stir up the shut up springs,
Which send forth newness in the spring.
Shall I plead my cause to them?
Peradventure, they would lend me their threads of love.
They would help me buy a zillionth of your priceless attention,
For they tell me how you used to wade in their waters.
How your ‘swarthy’ hair grew golden,
With strands of emeralds spotting the precious hair;
How their alluring waters toned your complexion;
How you learnt to churn out supernal tunes,
Like that of Bach
How you played with the graceful swans on the banks,
For countless tales they did recount to you,
That made you long for more.
Would you spare me a minute of your time?
I know your voice soothes pain.
Shall you not speak life to my hurt?
I adjure thee supernal damsel,
With the graces of Long-suffering.
Your time is priceless;
Your price is timeless.
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