My pater, why have you infected me?
with this affliction of high-strung. Which
you have exhibit on my flesh and
has reincarnated on my face.
So i dash to the stream to wash
but tenaciously the stain clung on my face,
like that rigid cuddle of mother and offspring.
So irredeemable, i sat on despair and sought
for the lunar that glitters that night.
When i was baked in her oven, from
his hard-work in honey taste. And
in anguish i utter- O! lunar, why was his gene dominant?
I longed you ought have rescued me that night,
And now am imparted with this affliction.
Which the stream was incompetent to wash,
so I sit on the soil and sought for rain. To
unblemish this stain of heredity on my face,
granting i liberty from this high-strung illness.
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