Princeton prince
are You flying like birds?
Or you test the edge of Time,
as the kings of the accords,
Or you are a buff of rhymes?
You are sleeping, turned your neck,
wild winds and wings of morning.
I saw Youth and smile attacks
As if neglecting mystic warning...
He sleeps; his head is sweetly bent,
but the matter of his heart
has no angel’s restful trend.
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