By her shining and her power he knew her.
Clouds of black birds rose up wailing and screaming, like the thoughts of my heart.
Love is a boaster at heart, who cannot hide the stolen horse without giving a glimpse of the bridle.
He sees himself in his lover as if in a mirror, not knowing whom he sees, And when they are together, he too is released from pain, and when apart, he longs as he himself is longed for; for reflected in his heart is love's image, which is love's answer. But he calls it, and believes it, not love but friendship.
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