A shiver strikes me, not born of the cold;
For how could you leave anyone serene?
Before me lies exquisiteness untold,
The kingdom of perfection has its Queen.
Wild turns, life takes, towards a goal quite mad;
Desire that burns and none may hope to drown,
A frenzied drive, a love olympiad:
A bitter striving for the other crown.
Can any hope to earn the golden right
To count your love and ardour as their own?
To take your hand, ascending to the light?
To know they\'ve fought enough to share your throne?
In searching deserts, some may call me fool...
But naught is too ambitious, for a jewel.