Oh, shrill lark, just breathe. You rage too well.
Seek no comfort in wretchedness.

Renounce the gossamer moon, curse starlight
with a breathless voice - if you must - but let love be.

As the saddest tale fades after telling,
undistinguishable kisses fade like dewdrops.

Seasons alter, you will love again and love better
laughing unabashed, at the memory of this gentle injury.