Page:Tangled Hair.djvu/64

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Birth and Death

Fighting with its mother and twin sister,
A frail infant has exhausted its strength
And, alas, perishes in my womb.

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My last child
Clad in his garments
Of pale pink and lavender
Sleeps deep in his coffin.

For my child
Let there be a happier land
Than the little death bed
Encircled by the four panels of a screen.

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