being to timelessness as it’s to time, love did no more begin than love will end; where nothing is to breathe to stroll to swim love is the air the ocean and the land (do lovers suffer?all divinities proudly descending put on deathful flesh: are lovers glad?only their smallest joy’s a universe emerging from a wish)
love is the voice under all silences, the hope which has no opposite in fear; the strength so strong mere force is feebleness: the truth more first than sun more last than star
—do lovers love?why then to heaven with hell. Whatever sages say and fools, all’s well