Pity me that the heart is slow to learnWhat the swift mind beholds at every turn.
And must I then, indeed, Pain, live with youall through my life?-sharing my fire, my bed,Sharing-oh, worst of all things!-the same head?-And, when I feed myself, feeding you too?
Please give me some good advice in your next letter. I promise not to follow it.
No one but Night, with tears on her dark face, watches beside me in this windy place.
Music, my rampart and my only one.
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