My poor heart burns
My poor heart burns, as if it were on fre, when I look at my own abominations, done in darkness and in light—the deeds of a boldfaced whore!
Lures lie in wait in my mouth, on my tongue; on my lips is spiders’ poison; my lords and elders, all the honoured and important men cling to deceit, refusing to repent.
From morning to evening my aged…
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