Stars all are born in a fire and a conflagration: so with us.
Your hands ache upon me. Set me ablaze in the night,
Lover, and keep me from my rest: I would rather lie waking
Than lose a moment of touch. I see you in all my dreams.
And you, lover, do you dream of me, too? Put your lips to mine—
I would have all of you; let us both go up in flames.