Will I be pure? Water
Is a purifying agent,
Under whose streams
The body becomes clean:
It makes you think the world needs a storm.
But what will dissolve the sins of thought? Wash
The stains of joy? Floss and flood the cavities of will?
How can I bear to look upon the light,
For whom all things are colored by desire’s shades?
In time the pennants of our virtue fade.
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