Proserpine gathering the embers and petals of flowers, she-herself, a fairer flower. People miss the way I laugh, fairest daughter, mean and vicious like me, in a strange paradox, in each other's arms, unhappy pair. Wakeful nightingale, pleasing silence, stolen emeralds, stolen sapphire, stolen dark silver.
Female. Wedded love, unnatural bond, sick lust, people squat like black and ugly toads, run their mouths, toad lips with toad eyes. Fairest of night, fairest of the flood of stars from each rooftop upon which I sleep, in the morn, a wilderness of sweetness, jealousy, injured lover, your name will not be said in Heaven.