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And near my poor dwelling, and above all, I was for thee
And my songs gave thee renown among all the shepherds
Thou wert little known before – & called It thou wert redirected
As a mean (low) maiden & a black gipsy – now thy countenance
And complexion are fair & fascinating & thy stateliness
Like the tall first. Thy cheeks are like milk & roses
Thy lips like corals. Thy teeth pearls. Thy hair like soft silk
All praise thee – all who live. – And my Songs did all this –
They made thee every where known – every where renowned
Yet thou despisest me & desirest my death
Now when the noontide Sun beams and every bird bird & flocks
Repose in the cold shade of the wood & the ploughman
Frees his oxen from the plough – & the green lizards are
Silent in their green dwellings – I alone am unhappy –
My heart is tormented incessantly – I cannot appease
My troubled thoughts. The lionness pursues the wolf –
The wolf pursues the flock – the goat seeks the heath
And my sorrow seeks thee. Every one has his desire
Every one his pursuit – The moth Every one his own (misery) {worm of grief) moth.
It is customary in Poland to bore the trees to prepare an abode
for the wild bees when they settle & the honey is collected
in the beginning of autumn. These trees are called Barci in Polish.
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I caught a pair of deer – They had stripes on their neck
They are nurtured by two goats. I keep them for myself.
Tertilla would fain possess them – & perhaps she may:
For the hard cruelty makes my gifts worthless
Hear! the woods – are filled with the music of birds
The meadows are covered with frolicsome bounding flocks
Here we would live a happy life. Here our years would pass
In delight – to the grave – wold thou not despise
My shepherds humble hut – wouldst thou incline thy mind
Towards me. Here grottoes overgrown with moss moss
Here lovely woods, shaded & murmuring streams
Flow over gravel-stones. Here tall poplars – have wide
Spreading Lindens – Elms – & the century-lasting oak –
But without thee the streams flow not – the woods
Rejoice not – All delightful spots are undelightful
Thou canst not utterly despise my person.
I have looked on myself in the clear stream
Not all my neighbors would thou deem equal to me
With me thousands of sheep graze in the fields
And every year they are doubled. Here near me
Are thousands of goats – I have milk enough
Identifier: | JB/110/104/002 "JB/" can not be assigned to a declared number type with value 110.
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110 |
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104 |
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002 |
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collectanea |
4 |
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recto |
f3 / / / |
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36094 |
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