Lament
It is the first night.
The flour is spread
Everywhere on the floor.
She will come,
Perhaps, and go back,
Leaving her foot imprint.
We will sleep,
Perhaps, all morning,
We will sleep.
She will see us,
Perhaps, but later
She will not see us.
We will pluck,
Perhaps, in the morning
We will pluck our hair.
She will rest,
Perhaps, midway
She will rest.
We will forget,
Perhaps, this grief
We will forget.
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