(177) Tava patha ceye achi
I am longing for Your advent— Don't You know that? So many days have gone by. So many nights have been lost. Nonetheless, alert I wait, I await. What is this sport of Yours, Every day, always new? You have conceived such alluring temptations, But I am not diverted by Your game. Triumph will be mine When You appear before me. |
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