I took my lyre and said: come now, my heavenly tortoise shell: become a speaking instrument.

Although only breath, words which I command are immortal.

May I write words more naked than flesh, stronger than bone, more resilient than sinew, sensitive than nerve.

Stand and face me, my love,and scatter the grace in your eyes.

I would not think to touch the sky with two arms

Love, like a mountain-wind upon an oak, falling upon me, shakes me leaf and bough.

I know not what to do, my mind is divided