Written by: George Zamalea

You were not celestial Cupid, and because they
Are wounded; you were most than those earthly ghosts
Brought down hearts by becoming Tartarus’ mastery;
That was purified by sufferings and misfortunes;
Some striking with long orgasms or others become honorary beasts.

I was Cupid before you when my home was a bursting wing;
O born in chains, and tolling in mental torment,
And for the first time, the pallid soul of dead love returned, and showed 
Such bloody law of loving by me;

O enlightened me with bitten breasts,
The realm of luminous form that in dark it flowing,
Evermore than a designed nightmare 
And let me feeling the mystic time.

Across you, o Psyche, crazy spirits dancing naked,
A smelled shadow that I would have most
Liked to spare the burden of old age,
Has nothing to give; only the glory a Moon-priestesses.

And all with hostility toward me and glowing
Was Cupid the fair ending of a love?
Through which I grew most liked a ghost
And speaking with her my last musical invoice
Hoping to have a decent response against what I became
Without you.