Love
They say the jackal and the moleDrink from the self-same streamWhere the lion comes to drink.
And they say the eagle and the vultureDig their beaks into the same carcass,And are at peace, one with the other,In the presence of the dead thing.
O love, whose lordly handHas bridled my desires,And raised my hunger and my thirstTo dignity and pride,Let not the strong in me and the constantEat the bread or drink the wineThat tempt my weaker self.Let me rather starve,And let my heart parch with thirst,And let me die and perish,Ere I stretch my handTo a cup you did not fill,Or a bowl you did not bless.