i miss my trobairitz
the lord knows in what castle
she is staying
or what she's singing or to whom
but i suspect she's somewhere
singing and playing
to an audience struck dumb with adoration
nevertheless i'm glad she's away:
this being the case at least i know
i won't stumble into the presence of one
whose face if glimpsed without warning
plunges me
into such uncertainty
and strikes me dumb with adoration
her graceful smile is sharp as a blade
on whom she bestows it is granted
the boon of a quick death
even though that mercy
as i can attest
seems to drag on forever
or could attest were i not struck
dumb with adoration
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