I blame you not my dear
For the fault was mine I fear
Had I not been made of flesh and bone
And reached up into the sky’s dome
And climbed the higher heights unclimbed yet
As I breathed the fuller air a larger day I met
For in the wilderness of my passion
A better, clearer song I did fashion
And for a freer freedom a torch I lit
Against many wrongs I sent my wit
And scorched these lips of mine
Into kisses that bled for some time
And in the fiercest bright blue light
As you seem like an angel’s sight
As in a paradise of splendor lush and green
A gift from heaven you had surely been
And as I was following this path of mine
Where Dante saw the suns of seven circles shine
And I saw the heavens opening by pure chance
The same as when the Florentine did advance
And the world would have crowned me with fame
But here I am now crownless and without name
And you would find me kneeling at first light of an African dawn
Find me at the entrance of the house of fame for which I was born
And together with the famous and wise I used to often sit
Where the eldest together with the young was equally fit
And there was good fortune bountiful
And their blessings were flowing plentiful
And the famous would look upon me with praise
And with a kiss on my forehead me they did raise
And with their noble affection and charm
They would hug me with outstretched arm
And at springtime when the apple’s blossom
Brushed the beautiful dove’s burnished bosom
And two young lovers in an orchard under a tree would lay
They would have read the story of our love back in the day
Would have read the legend of my passion
Known the bitter secret of my heart
Kissed as we kissed in similar fashion
But never parted as we are fated to part
For the crimson flower of our life
Is eaten by the cankerworm of truth
And no hand can gather up
The fallen withered petals
Of the rose of youth
Yet I am not sorry that I loved you
What else was I supposed to do?
For the hungry teeth of time devour
And the silent-footed years pursue
Rudderless sideways into the hurricane we drift
Without any introduction or warning it’s so swift
And when once the storm of youth is past
Death the silent pilot comes at last
And within the grave there is no pleasure
Where blindworm get fat beyond measure
Where desire shudders into ashes devoid of care
And the tree of passion has no fruit to bear
What else than to love you was I to do?
God’s own mother was less dear than you
And less dear than that glorious moment’s prize
When Aphrodite like a lily from the sea did rise
I lived my poems it's a decision that I have made
And though youth is gone in wasted days I fade
I have found the lover’s crown of leaves and thorn
Far greater than the poet’s crown of laurels borne
