“Oh my father,” I cried aloud,
“if, alas, she would but come to me
and freely place upon my face
the sweet taste of her lips.
Oh divine dream of the gods it would seem,
“Be wary, o my son,” cautioned the wizened old sage,
“For a kiss such as this
is indeed the dream of the gods.
Joy so pure,
so splendidly divine,
love a mortal frame cannot contain,
“So be it,” I muttered,
“my path in death has been appointed
as has been my road in life,
for I shall dream of joy eternal,
for death upon her lips.”