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are no days for me any more, for the dawn is dark with tears, There is no rest for me any more, for the night is thick with fears. There are no flowers nor any fruit, for the sorrowful locusts came, And the garden is but a memory, the vineyard only a name.

There is no light in the empty sky, no sail upon the sea, Birds are yet on their nests perchance, but they sing no more to me. Past—vanished—faded away—all the joys that were, My youth died down in a swift decline when they married her to despair.

"My lord, the crowd in the Audience Hall; how long wilt thou have them wait?" I have given my father's younger son the guidance of the State. "The steeds are saddled, the Captains call for the orders of the day." Tell them that I shall ride no more to the hunting or the fray.

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