The evening star Is the most beautiful of all stars
Someone, I tell you, in another time will remember us
There is no place for grief in a house which serves the Muse.
Raise high the roof-beam, carpenters. Like Ares comes the bridegroom, taller far than a tall man.
Once again love drives me on, that loosener of limbs, bittersweet creature against which nothing can be done.
All the while, believe me, I prayed our night would last twice as long.