Oh, My Love!

Alas, she has fallen to fate's vicissitude;
her eye doesn't see and tongue doesn't sing;
her blood's still; for death is crooked and lewd!

"She is gone" a fact which I try to elude
futile; for, from dead, one can't bring;
Alas, she has fallen to fate's vicissitude!

"My, if only death could possibly be wooed,"
is the only hopeless hope to which I cling;
(but) her blood's still; for death is crooked and lewd!

Whose whole being was my life's prelude
whose slender finger bore my lovely ring;
Alas, she has fallen to fate's vicissitude!

Wake awake! To where our love is in multitude
shall we merrily and gaily sing and wing!
(but) her blood's still; for death is crooked and lewd!

Now all of my heart and soul is sad and crude;
in my mind her part does prick and sting;
Alas, she has fallen to fate's vicissitude;
her blood's still; for death is crooked and lewd!

The End

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