XCVIII
I will deck thee with trophies, garlands of my defeat.
It is never in my power to escape unconquered.
I surely know my pride will go to the wall, my life will burst
its bonds in exceeding pain, and my empty heart will sob out in
music like a hollow reed, and the stone will melt in tears.
I surely know the hundred petals of a lotus will not remain
closed for ever and the secret recess of its honey will be bared.
From the blue sky an eye shall gaze upon me and summon me in
silence.
Nothing will be left for me, nothing whatever, and utter death
shall I receive at thy feet.
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