Eros harrows my heart: wild gales sweeping desolate mountains, uprooting oaks.
I will let my body flow like water over the gentle cushions.
Beauty endures only for as long as it can be seen; goodness, beautiful today, will remain so tomorrow.
Now the Earth with many flowers puts on her spring embroidery
Although only breath, words which I command are immortal.
No honey for me, if it comes with a bee.