How can weeping be a benefit,
During when hope lies fruitful and hale?
You continue to see tears like raining sapphires,
Like raining blood, like raining rubies.
Like the emerald between your fingers,
Like grass that has been taken.
Oh, when you’ve begun to weep in the sickness
Of your unending pain.
What embrace can I offer,
Different from the last?
What kiss may I give,
More compassionate than the former?
You have tears still hanging loosely
On that forlorn stare of yours.
It burns holes in my mountain of pride,
And makes the forests crumble to ash.
Love holds its doors open,
For us to walk through its gates,
And you’ll weep, merely weep,
Despite our hopes, despite our wishes.
Has faith been lost in you?
Under the many doubtful turns,
Have you come to quake
In the fear,
Because of my doings,
Of my lack of them?
Upon the floor, you crawl with eyes streaming such sadness,
Above my arms, I attempt to let you see, the Heavens for their blue,
And you stream sadness,
Upon Hell and its washed hues to make shades.
I feel strong, only when faith is an occurrence,
Never weak, and never faltering, when there’s no doubt,
From you, my wicked beauty.
Make me want you, more than the highest angels,
I am no monster, my love, no devil of danger.
We kiss, do we not, when we desire relief?
Modern Romanticism 