Superficiality

The pointed diamond in her glass,

had left a taste of quintessence

and the heart with lewd desires.

My soul has a sacred vein.

Make me immortal with a kiss,

for love is dead and dead to thee.

Shake hands and cancel our vows.

Swell the oceans so that woods appear,

for my brave brother is called England.

From womb to tomb, born to die,

a dead mans grave in blue pyre.

The tears we shed belonged to a crocodile.