is there no joy in the deep of your heart? At every football of yours, will not the harp of the road break out in sweet music of pain?
The traveler is tired and finds himself in a blind alley, with his provisions exhausted. He hopes for a quiet rest, but God urges him and he moves ahead. The poet feels exhausted and blocked, but divine grace inspires him with new melodies and a new vision.
the spring flowers have disappeared and the autumn leaves are falling, yet the poet is still waiting for God, his lover
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