Did thou believe then
I loved thee not, lass?
Did not the circumstance of time
reveal this love which shines
from out my very soul, dear girl?

Perceive thou not this truth,
that thy willing servant’s heart
hast thou sorely pierced,
thy own sweet tongue
destruction’s first born;
the deadly sword
of love’s demise?

Wouldst thou then
bear my corpse unto the pyre,
watching there as merry sparks
depart forevermore life’s fragile realm?

Ah, sweetest lilac of my hearts desire,
go thee now from out my presence
taking also the virtue of paenitere,
embraced not of thy wondrous ego.

I go the way of fools before me,
oblivion and bitterness my Shangri La;
thy new love in impatient straits
seeks now your silken hand to kiss,
coveting even the lips I knew;
Adieu my love; adieu.