My song has
put off her adornments. She has no pride of dress
and
decoration. Ornaments would mar our union; they would come
between thee
and me; their jingling would drown thy whispers.
My poet's
vanity dies in shame before thy sight. O master poet, I
have sat
down at thy feet. Only let me make my life simple and
straight, like a flute of reed
for thee to fill with music
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