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His heart he offers them ...and they spurn. |
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Then in silence and seclusion ...silently he weeps. |
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However there is no one coming all along who would wipe the tears from his careworn face away. |
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And so with each brith of a day he gets up and sets forth the new pilgrimage. |
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His endless heart stays opened still, so that everyone could enter... ...only visitors sometimes come... |
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He is not clad like a king, his garments bear the sign of distant lands, though he is the embodiment of thee |
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Lord. So night after night as wave after wave lonely yearning and silent weep dissembless and they are smitting upon the merciless shore of body... |
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I wish my pilgrimage to reach home already. |