A resonance
shaking the soul
like I have not known,
nor could have seen,
has taken place.
What sort of music
is this?
What kind of reply
must I make?
I only know
that I heard it,
and it was beautiful.
There is a song
I desire to sing,
the words come ready to mind,
but I do not sing in haste;
I do not sing
of my own accord.
I long to hear it again,
to listen closely,
that I might sing well,
that I might find my place
in the chorus.
It is not for me
to write the song.
The melody, the time
are not mine,
and they will never be.
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