Grief is the joy of a quake and slumberous acts,
It caresses the heart of the beloved as he speaks;
Grief is a mountain that I climb for the world to see,
My accursed fellowship is a remainder of fortune and lies.
My imagination is clever, my action is a solution,
Beware of the caressing united men who solve a problem
About law and poverty, the reformists gave their support,
The grievances were cared for, as a melody struck the wind.
My danger spoke a ruinous tongue, of odour and spice,
Much was turbulent in today's market-place of spoils
And winnings; the lottery has been spun and joked about
For a certain strenuous act, a stringent act and defence.
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