To a Corpse

In death reposest thou, and I in death repose. Thou slain by an arrow, I am poisoned by desire. While thou art full of blood, my cheek has lost its rose. Bright candles by thy side, in me a secret fire. In a shroud of mourning liest thou among the woes, My senses in a horrid darkness trapped expire. Thy hands are bound, my freedom’s gone; eternal throes Of death have chained my mind upon a funeral pyre. Thou speakest not, I cannot cease to moan all day. Thy senses gone, I suffer from a dreadful pain. Thou cold as ice, my entrails burn with flames insane. Thy body soon will turn and into ash decay, But I, a goad of my eternal blaze of lust, Cannot disintegrate and simply turn to dust.

Do trupa)