The Eyes of Which I Spoke So Passionately

The eyes of which I spoke with such deep passion,
The arms, the hands, the ankles, and the face
That divided my heart in two
And made me unlike any other man;

The living hair of pure and shining gold,
The radiance of that angelic smile
That once transformed the earth into Paradise,
Are now but senseless dust.

And I still live, burdened by grief,
Deprived of the light I loved so dearly;
Like a shattered ship upon a stormy sea.

Here I bring my song of love to its end:
The spring of my inspiration has run dry,
And my lyre begins once more to weep.