Were it not because the jasmine’s blooming,
hellish torments on me would be thronging,
you are gone, the summer day is empty.
all its sun and song speak but of longing.
But the jasmine’s blooming by the hedgerow
like a milky way of white suns blazing,
what to me are all the stars of heaven –
each bloom is your white dress while I’m gazing.
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