Not a word is what the Sun gave the mountain tops;
the mountain tops were mute and nothing else toward the Sun.
In the valley, a bleat floating the voice more steep in the air than the Sun
bending low to hear the shepherdess telling:
My voice found earth easier than sky - ah, but only rosy reminds from here
on - oh no, I amend - no rosy reminds, seeing I sank by their blooms.
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