| If I behold her, I am mad |
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| I, like a poor fakir |
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| False is she, breaker of all promises |
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| O changing Wheel of Fate, what thing is there |
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| Thou take'st no heed of me |
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| O Weaver of Excuses, what to thee |
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| If you should meet the Loved One as you stray |
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| The High ambition of the drop of rain |
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| How long will she thus stand unveiled before me |
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| Wherever the Beloved looks she stirs |
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