Anything at all! Less wondrous than these dead beauties? To whom I am devoted when other dead beauties sing I appear and vanish like crystalline birds, like aurora spangled flowers.
What more pure than dead beauty?
To whom I am devoted when other dead beauties weep for me. So name them to me — name them in praise:
‘If e’er thy delight did belong to my caresses thou wouldst be bound with lead to the palace of Fate; you never will prevail — if they were crowned with a sable Queen and a robe of the sky.
I would not only expire but love you dearly in the Palace of Fate.
Every time, and every place, the dead beauties are the same; eaters of all things lovely — Time! Upon whose watering lips
the world posies a moment (futile, proud, a costly morsel of sweet tears) gesticulates, and disappears — of all dainties which do crowd gaily upon oblivion and sweeter than any one; in life’s very fragile hour (when the world was like a tale made of laughter and of dew) used to stroll (very slowly) one or two women like flowers made, softly used to wholly move slender ladies made of dreams
(in the lazy world and new sweetly used to laugh and love with crisp eyes and frail, in the city of Shambala).
So three cheers for tyranny! Keep your dead beautiful ladies Harun Omar and Master Hafiz. Aught less wondrous than these dead beauties to whom I am devoted when other dead beauties go vanish to appear like crystalline birds, like aurora spangled flowers. What more wondrous than dead beauty?
For whom (aye) of all things it is to love, the dead beauties are the noblest (of all).
Somebody gave me this very wonderfully heart-melting poetry-spell, just in
time for the purgatory of my explosive Soul and Heart. For Dead Beauties are lost opportunities and nothing more.
Anything at all! Gaily upon oblivion and sweeter than anyone!