Joakim Bergen

White Love

Believe me, I know;

Your honey’s poison

And your lips a trap.

Yet, I am a fool;

For love I’d sell my soul.

And what thine love it is;

Pure white, shining diamond!

Out of reach, yet so close;

Why must you torture me

Leaving wanton wishing

For more and more and more?

 

I imbibe thine poison

And bite your dripping lips,

I strew myself ‘cross the floor;

Bits and pieces of myself

I’d sold for your love,

Yet your heart wishes more;

‘Tis all-devouring passion

That e’en cold stones

Turns to brimstone warm!

And, oh, do I melt!

Rendered defenseless,

My bastion breach’d;

Thine flame hath burn’d

My soul, my essence!

What now, has man,

Naked, lost, forlorn,

But himself,

And I am myself

No more,

For I felt the sting

Of white love.