III

Mourn, Venuses and Cupids

And all who have tasted love.

My girl’s sparrow is dead.

Sparrow, apple of my girl’s eye

Whom she loved more than her own eyes

For he was honey-sweet and knew his owner

As well as a girl knows her own mother.

He never shifted himself from her lap

But hopping around

Cheep here

Cheep there

Would chirp continuously to his mistress only.

But now he travels that shadowy path

From which they allow no return.

Shame on you, cruel darkness of the

Underworld who devours all beautiful things

As you have stolen pretty Sparrow from me.

Criminal deed. Poor little sparrow.

It is your fault the darling eyes of my girl

Are now swollen and red from weeping.