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‘She loves me… She loves me not’.
And all that remains in the aftermath of the game is an empty, naked stem.

When Love’s bacteria
The thinking heart arrest
And cause the feeling mind to shiver,
May God in His mercy deliver
From the loving embrace of the West
The people of Syria.

What fathomless criteria
The Christian or the Muslim God compel
To shed his veil?
Love tips old Ares’ sanguineous scale
The timeless stock of sorrow to buy and to sell,
The people of Syria.

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