“What potion should I give the night so she’ll always wonder?”

&
What potion should I give the night so she’ll always wonder?
Her pounding heart’s a rider galloping from the burning wood.

Maybe my pharmacist is awake the next street over?
In a crucible of  bone, snake tears mixed with herbs.

Should I hurry? Call the doctor? A heart like hers is rare.
And to tell the truth, if it shattered, what would I do?

Translated from the Yiddish

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