Poetic Lunch Break


Miserere
Se Mercé fosse amica a’ miei disiri*
This fallen night the ancient girl
My hot agitated digits furled, and
These hands enjoined; they hailed her world.
Ave!

Yet flagrant grief incensed me.  Hence
I groped her gracious confidence–
Fessing high crimes that spurn defense.
Ave! Ave!

Silent condemnation thundered.
What whispered treaties were, were sundered
Into stupefied and wilding wonder.
O! O, ave!

Now blasted [...]

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