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One, Two
One, two, three, four —
find yourself a wife — choose her!
Do not dally, don't be late
or someone else'll get there first.
I myself found me some honey
but it never came to my lips.
Two she had her, this one widow:
one brunette and one had fair hair.
Not girls-pearls,
fillies fine and gorgeous,
the joy of whoever saw their face
and I loved both of them.
But who'll foretell and who'll say
which of them I loved more.
The time went, I don't know how
I dillydallied, dillydallied.
Suddenly a demon came and scarfed them
a demon with a ponytail and handlebar mustache.
And I remained, silly bugger,
an old bachelor ever after.
And from this to all the young men
a moral to the wise and let who learns learn.
One, two, three, four —
find yourself a wife — choose her!
Do not dally, don't be late
or someone else'll get there first.
poem
by
Hayyim Nahman Bialik
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