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I wonder if there is no remedy for my suffering?

Or there is no proportion for this endure?

 

 

I burn like a candle from top to toe.

What is it, is there no ending to this burning?

 

 

Foe sneers my bewail.

I wonder if this heathen has no creed?

 

 

The arrow of your glime has bore my heart,

Seek, see is there no barb in the heart.

 

 

Your eye stabbed my neck like a dagger.

I wonder if this daemon has no creed?

 

 

 

You shuffle my blood to the ground like water.

What do you think, piteous has no blood?

 

 

 

You are haughty with your beauty.

Is there no lessen your consummate beauty?

 

 

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Monsieur, before I died,

Is it not possible for me to come into your presence?