I clasped it close to my heart and the thorn piqued.
When the day ebbed and nighfall approached, I discerned that the flower had lost its hue, but the ache remained.
More flowers will blossom in your garden, full of fragrance and delight, O Gardener !
But my time for gathering blossoms is over, and through the nighttripping hours, I have not my flower, only the ache that abides and a heart that bleeds.
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