O my lovelorn soul
Why do you cry so forgetfully forlorn
Dawn comes
Dusk comes
Then they disappear beyond the domes of silver, copper, gold
Life’s a mystery
Death is life’s due
A drop of dew refracts the soft subtle sun’s hue
Stars in the space sparkle like the sharp edges of the steep mounts
O my soul forlorn
O my love lovelorn
O my life
O my death
O my due
O my debt
O who’s there beneath the veil
And who’s there hiding behind the abaya of faith
O whose invisible Presence thus I feel all night, all day
Watching me over and over again
Protecting me from the evil, sin of Lucifer and his sinful sail
O my lovelorn flame
Flaming in the shroud of doubt and darkness
Driving away the obnoxious spirits hanging in the air of my humble
The tall palm and coconut trees are blowing in the breeze of evening
The fern-hills in the foggy distance where the shoals of fireflies and
the congregation of crickets render the atmosphere of the woods more
solemn and more sanctified in silent secret of pre-dawn sunray
The lip of the lily the tongue of the twilight taste to testify the
death and birth of a beautiful butterfly coming out of the shawl of a
changeling shell
The trail of the homebound cattle settle to rest restlessly upon the
romantic rustic pathways of long lost souls slumberous romantic who
the poets and playwrights wrote to preserve in time piteous empty shelf
O my lovelorn lonely fly
Fly away, fly away, fly away
Leaving behind the memory, the merrymaking sad and kind
Floating on the wings of tidal tide
Lunar light
Eyes open wide
Breath of a lover warm and fine
Fruitful forbidden pleasure the silkworm untie
Undressing Diana’s Dahlia’s daffodil delight
Love bulbul
Love bulbul
The nightingale makes angles with the gale of the night
Her ruby red lips crimson rub around the ring of my Phoenix tight
Shy smile
Sly sight
Sleep over to the Mount of Olympus
Sleepwalk to the sylvan isle
The cherry tree bloom blossoms pink purple pride
The sight behind sight sigh
The shrine lay in sacrosanct smile
O my life
O my lovelorn rhyme
Let the season of happiness combine us in metrical musical line
The tip of the tulip the tip of the twilight tie with the thread of
color hung up in the overhung sky
O lovelorn soul o’ mine
There’s nobody to cry by thy side
No witness to witness
No nests to nest nestle on this side
Still the soul forlorn fruitlessly fly

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