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Erna, strange girl, mysterious
as grace.
A young man
loved her and she could not give him,
for all the pain she brought on him, a kiss.
On many she bestowed sweet kisses, none
on him, though he pleaded with her in tears.
He was fated to fall ill (for some time
had been without work, had been for some time
a burden even to himself) and she,
faking a sudden passion, placed
her lipsticked mouth
upon the dying man’s.
Perhaps
she may recover yet. But should
something befall her
whose chill this poor girl fears, O Lord;
should she appear before you face
to face,
open the portals of your paradise.