Samuel Hardman


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My Lover's Hand

Soft is my lover's hand to hold;
I weep, it is so light!
The blood-red crown has turned to gold;
The moon is up and day is night.

Cattails down the rushing streams
Where lovers are gently caressing;
They travail o're the world to dream
A nightmare of curses and blessings.

[Hata Bildir]