Within a curly storm of wavy gold
must swim great gulfs of pure and blazing light
my heart, for beauty eagerly athirst,
when your abundant tresses you unbind.
Just like Leander in a fire-tossed sea,
its love displays, extinguishes its life;
like Icarus, its golden path unsure,
its wings catch fire — in glorious flames it dies.
So very like the Phoenix, with its hopes
all burnt, whose expiration I lament,
it wants its death to make new lives from old.
So miserly and rich, in treasure poor,
in trials and humger Midas imitates;
Tantalus in a fleeting fount of gold.