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v i t é z m i h á ly csokona i | 19 The Black Wax Seal Black seal on my truelove’s letter, Loose at last what you conceal! Show to my sad head your matter; Life, or death, will you reveal? Make or break— Lord, I shake! Shake! Perhaps her rose-stem’s smitten By a pain that tears her heart, Or her grief—or death!—are written In the dead black of your art. Does she save Me a grave? In a grave? or loves another?— Hurls me from her heart’s demesne, A death-sentence to her lover? That is what the seal must mean. It’s no lie. I must die. I must die but ere I’m buried, Open, black and mourning seal! There might be a word you carried That my dying heart might heal, And your breath Speak no death. Speak no death! Ah beg your pardon, Letter sweet, with lying seal. Just “I love you” was your burden, Dear redemption, dear repeal: Sentence, kiss: Heaven’s bliss. 20 | Light within the Shade Blissful letter, little treasure! Now I kiss you in return; Lilla’s soul was in your measure, Lit my day with your new sun, Healed my heart With your art. 1803 ...

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