[repeated lines]
Isolde:
[reading]
My face in thine eyes, thine in mine appears, And true plain hearts do in the faces rest; Where can we find two better hemispheres Without sharp north, without declining west? Whatever dies, was not mixed equally; If our two loves be one, or thou and I love so alike - that none can slacken, none can die.
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05/03/2025 alle ore 10:27
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