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Ah me, ah me --
Of me unhappy, evil-destined fortunes!
For I bewail my proper woe
As, mine with his, all into one I throw.
Why hast thou hither me unhappy brought?
-- Unless that I should die with him -- for nought!
What else was sought?

Thou art some mind-mazed creature, god-possessed:
And all about thyself dost wail
A lay -- no lay!
Like some brown nightingale
Insatiable of noise, who -- well-away! --
From her unhappy breast
Keeps moaning Itus, Itus, and his life
With evils, flourishing on each side, rife.

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