Don’t thee see how lewd the glorious sun is!
Put some fabric pieces on its eyes; the thick ones
To cover thou vision from human lack-knowledge beings.
Thee wilt behold at how those art walking and crying
bout’ undying-problem.
Says, thy been loving for ages.
Till now, thee heart-latest
But no more time:
Had we but hundred-hundred years
Had people but poet eyes
To give thine mind, thou lifes for the would-be lover.
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