Scarlet rays the rising sun weaves into the lake.
Woodcocks, wailing on the boughs, pinewood echoes wake.
There's a weeping oriole hidden in a tree.
I alone don't wish to weep—all is fine with me.
So, after the rape all is fine. The blood is floating in the rays of the sun and nature is quite happy. He doesn't weep like the birds, he's just fine. Or maybe not, I think that oriole is next in line to get discovered with the woodcock.
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