She kills my hate
With love,
Swallows my anger
With joy.
Wipes my tears
With smile,
Removes my thorns
With roses.

Heals my wounds
With gifts,
And eclipses my verses
With sacrifice.
She for me:
A fading star,
I for her:
The Sun and Moon.

I hardly find a moment
To remember her.
She considers none
Besides me.
Even as I damn
Her to hell,
She prays for
My place in paradise.

The Self has
No place in Love.
On selfish soil, its seed
Is forbidden to sow.
Every precious thing
Has a price to be paid.
Love, the greatest,
Demands your Self: low-laid.