Sculptor of demons and of goddesses,
I chisel also an eidolon of love
in ebony, adorning him with black roses
that bear the thorns of pain and sorrow.

His mouth and brows, capricious,
mingle their honey with a great bitterness;
upon his shoulder, with tightening talons,
there perches a hard-eyed hawk.

Selling all my ancient idols,
I worship the new god: before his altar
I bring the mythic fruits of distant lands
and cast the loot of ocean-se pulchres.

The god is blind . . . and my oblations
have vainly hued his ebon heels with blood.