I burn and burn with your wounds, I make with every sonnet, your eye, I lose rhyme, before you, only my poetry was the ascension of my pride, O highest of all, now I praise you, you gave this empty table in the bread of the sonnet, O blessed wheat, I start from you , I was from the earth, you were a fountain dweller, you were found with your hand, the wings of all my flight from my sin Every tulip, every horse and jar I filled it with your love, I saw it until the peak of you, listen to me, the horse and me, and the tired heart of the lovers journey from the necklaces full of people, if I do not pay the ransom with the blood of this
