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I have lain with miraculous beauties
beneath the hanging branches of beech trees
I have sat stoicly in the afternoons
pulling petals from hawthorn blossoms,
watching as Zephyr whispers them away,
wondering if he will guide them to you
(whisper us away and we can be together again)

I have watched the starlight gather about her at dusk,
the purple and gold streaming through the fields,
planting gentle kisses upon her cheeks and hair
(But, O, how the moonlight makes silver
within the crucible that is your hair!)

I have watched the sun-set settle into night,
sinking below the streets of Cordoba,
held hands with Spanish girls outside the Alhambra,
while their mothers busied themselves with knitting
I have spent lonely nights in strange lands,
looked out upon the streets as strangers passed,
holding themselves closely while it was snowing
(watching your eyes grow dim with desire,
I am lost in reverie with another-
My princess sleeps tonight in St. Petersburg
her fingernails are as pink as coral)

What am I to do when the money runs out
and cannot buy a cure for my disease?
Who will remain to historicize our love
when all the poets are drunk or broken-hearted?

I spent one year trying to attain you,
one year basking in the glory of my conquest,
and one year trying to forget that you exist
(It is the midday blue of your eyes
that is so difficult to resist)

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