To a Corpse

In death reposest thou, and I in death repose.

Thou slain by an arrow, I am poisoned by desire.

While thou art full of blood, my cheek has lost its rose.

Bright candles by thy side, in me a secret fire.

In a shroud of mourning liest thou among the woes,

My senses in a horrid darkness trapped expire.

Thy hands are bound, my freedom’s gone; eternal throes

Of death have chained my mind upon a funeral pyre.

Thou speakest not, I cannot cease to moan all day.

Thy senses gone, I suffer from a dreadful pain.

Thou cold as ice, my entrails burn with flames insane.

Thy body soon will turn and into ash decay,

But I, a goad of my eternal blaze of lust,

Cannot disintegrate and simply turn to dust.