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Melancholic Night
Behind the thick curtains, the Mourning Hall looms,
Lying awake in silence as night extends and looms.
A goddess's life, merely a dream of what could be,
A young maiden's home, no man to see.
The stormy winds doubt the strength of the delicate flower,
But who taught the fragrant laurel leaves to hold such power?
Yearning for each other, yet nothing comes to pass,
Sadness and madness, a clear sign of an amorous
impasse. |
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amorous |
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strongly moved by love |
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