LACERATIONS OF LOVE

This light, this fire, this quick devouring lime;
This grey and empty landscape that surrounds me;
This torment of one sole idea that hounds me;
This anguish in the heavens, the world and time;

These tears of blood that decorate the strings
Of my mute lyre, bright torch whose flame should light me;
These batterings of a heavy sea that smite me;
This scorpion living in my breast that stings;

These are love's garland, the wounded victim's bed
Where sleepless I dream that with me you remain
Among the ruins of the heart you bled.

I seek the heights of wisdom, but in vain:
Deep in the valley of your heart I'm fed
On hemlock, bitter knowledge bought with pain.