A song I go singing, I sing to You;
On the earth who else is there?
Mine You say, mine You say!
Melody I've practiced, strings I have tuned;
Teeming with Your thinking I remain.
Sweetness of a vernal breeze in my rumination,
It pervades that melody, frequently and more.
In solitude with music modes in my heart,
Restless myself gladness makes.
To strings of the lute I have bound a tune;
How many sounds I have raised in a hundred moods.
Your inspiration, my exploration,
That, they set ablaze.
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Could anything else be so fine?
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