I skip like a gazelle
I skip like a gazelle at passion’s call
To see my love, secluded in her hall.
Arriving there, I find my darling in,
With mother, father, brothers—all her kin.
I take one look and grimly shrink away,
As if she didn’t matter anyway.
Them I fear; but her, my love, I mourn
Like a mother mourning her first born.
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