So happy, so sad,
So high, so low,
Trembling, sighing, pacing –
I’ve become utterly useless.
What is happening to me?
A strange urge to carve that sweet name
Into every tree I meet –
There are not enough trees in Arden!
What is happening to me?
Pulling, twisting,
Like some internal rack,
Torturing my sleepless nights.
What is happening to me?
I have seen Beatrice.
I have seen Beatrice,
And she doesn’t even know it.
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