The blooming rose in your ever-growing hair
Sends me to God and repent–it is everywhere!
Do not let your hair gracefully invite others–I will not;
You are my princess–for your strands of Heaven I have fought.
Exhale your sorrows into the smoke of exile;
There I will wait–opening the door of Hellfire.
May my worn hands entangle in its blanket of your hair–
To the moon and back…I shall dare.
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