Beloved: you've never wanted to take the form
imagined by my divine love. 
                Remain in the host,
                blind and impalpable,
                as God exists.
 

        If I've sung much, I've wept even more
for you! o my lofty parable of love!
                Remain in the brain
                and in the immense myth 
                of my heart!

        It's faith, the forge where I fired
the earthy iron of so much woman;
and, on an ungodly anvil, desired to refine you.
                Remain in nebulous
                eternity, there
                in the multisense of a sweet nonbeing.

        And if you've never wanted to take the form
of my metaphysical emotion of love,
                let me flog myself
                as a sinner.