“"Since love first made the breast an instrument Of fierce lamenting, by its flame my heart Was molten to a mirror, like a rose I pluck my breast apart, that I may hang This mirror in your sight Gaze you therein."”
“"I am but as the spark that gleams for a moment, His burning candle consumed me - the moth; His wine overwhelmed my goblet, The master of Rum transmuted my earth to gold And set my ashes aflame”
