In Love and War
If I die in this war, this combat with you,
I won't so much as sigh, for fear of troubling you.
I'll die with a smile, like a flower in your hand,
From the cruel charm with which you cut this wound.
I won't so much as sigh, for fear of troubling you.
I'll die with a smile, like a flower in your hand,
From the cruel charm with which you cut this wound.



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