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In the world no one gets a rosy cheeked one
Until his heart has received scars from time
In the comb see that until there are 100 prongs
Its hand does not arrive at the curls of a beauty.

 

Chr 30

No one has ever made his way to a rosy cheek, but
a thorn, at the hand of Time, made its way to his heart.
Likewise the comb: not ere its head has been split into a
thousand tines will its hand reach the ringlet of a fair one.

Nic 150

Sur la terre, personne n'a étreint dans ses bras une charmante aux joues colorées du teint de la rose sans que le temps ne soit venu d'abord lui planter quelque épine dans le cœur. Vois plutôt le peigne: il n'a pu parvenir à caresser la chevelure parfumée de la beauté qu'après avoir été découpé en une foule de dents.

P 340

No man in this our world a rose-cheeked fair attaineth to,
But, by Fate's spite, his heart a thorn of care attaineth to.
Consider but the comb; an hundred teeth 't is cut in
Or e'er its hand a tress of lovelings' hair attaineth to.

Th 224

None in this world attains a rose-cheeked fair
Till in his heart Fate driven the thorn he wear;
See, in this comb until a hundred teeth
Were cut, it ne'er might touch the loved one's hair!

Wh 171

Whoso aspires to gain a rose-cheeked fair,
Sharp pricks from fortune's thorns must learn to bear.
See! till this comb was cleft by cruel cuts,
It never dared to touch my lady's hair.

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