"Self-Portrait"
My friend, you who claim to know me,
look round my room: nothing of its decoration
was my own choosing; open my wardrobe:
it has nothing to show you that is specially me.
My lover and my dog know how I caress them,
but I remain unknown to them. My old instrument
is well aware of my hand's contours;
it too cannot sing about me.
Yet I am not
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