A dove moaned frailly in the dark one night
On a branch, while I was sleeping.
I have lied, by God’s house! Were I a lover,
Then doves would not beat me in weeping.
I claim that I am mad with love, fervent with longing
For my Lord, yet I do not weep and such animals are weeping.
On a branch, while I was sleeping.
I have lied, by God’s house! Were I a lover,
Then doves would not beat me in weeping.
I claim that I am mad with love, fervent with longing
For my Lord, yet I do not weep and such animals are weeping.
... Anonymous
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