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THE BALLETS
unerring sense of fun. Certainly he is the most uncanny and the least human of all Nijinsky's creations. For this Harlequin is the very soul of mischief—half Puck—but Puck with a sting, and with a body like a wire of tempered steel.
Open your eyes that close To this maiden dream so light; I am the wraith of a rose You wore at the dance last night. You gathered me pearly and wet With the silver tears of the dew; In that glittering throng I let You carry me all night through.
You were my death, you know. But you cannot keep away My rosy spirit; to and fro It shall dance by your bed till day. Be not afraid—I ask no dole Of pity or prayers or sighs; This scented sweetness is my soul. And it comes from Paradise.
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