The Dying Lover - Poem by Gustave Kahn
So long as the child preferred to me such and such a
player of the flute or singer to the zither,
little I cared
that she loved such and such a player of the flute or
scratcher of the zither.
By the cross-roads I have fallen struck, struck by the
thrust of a sword.
Whose? player of flute or scratcher of zither?
How long the night is to be so slow in dying.
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