An unimaginable fate lies,
I had let it passing by,
By a spell that would be relented;
Of this “love” I have granted,
Of whose darkened soul, I did cherish—
With my pride! With my pride!
On which upon a tormented nerve, I did not control.
In a well everlasting eternity,
Into a waking passion eternally,
I ponder if it should be that it is the same theme?
I forgot in youth of departure,
Of what wouldn’t deathlessly roam forever.
Oh, my pride, my pride!
An idle drought convinced
Of only a time,
As doubtful as it seems,
It is the beauteous time.
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