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Schammasch
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These Tresses Are Sacred
Through the branches of the trees the awakened
birds gaze rapturously on his malencholy visage.
The nightingale is unwilling to utter its cavatinas of crystal.
The wood has become as August as a
grave because of his nocturnal presence.
Stands several paces back, and thus you will do well.
These Tresses Are Sacred: The Hermaphrodite himself whished it.
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