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Though our hearts were mad and strong

With love for you,

Though we fought for you,

Though our remnant struggled

And not one was false,

We are beaten.

Beauty, for your sake we are lost,

For you we are crushed,

Scorn and bitterness are cast at us,

And fools who hate you

Are preferred to us.

Treacherous wonderful lady,

Despoina! Basilea! Potnia!

You have betrayed us—

Yet, hurt and overwhelmed and in despair

We can but turn to you again

And sing our love for you.

White goddess of beauty,

Take these roses—

It is our blood that colours them;

Take these lilies—

White as our intense hearts;

Take these wind-flowers—

Frail as our strength spent in your service;

Take these hyacinths—

Graven with the sigh of our lost days;

Take these narcissus blossoms

Lovely as your naked breasts.