O', my grace, my Empress of the Sun.
Your beauty, your glamour, it burns me deep.
Do not tell me that we are to be done.
Do you wish to watch this wretched wretch weep?

After all that I, your darling, went through,
will you truly toss our love to the side?
After the world which I moved all for you,
will you slice and then slight my justly pride?

I implore you to hence reconsider,
if you realize what is best for your head.
Do not make me a sick, sinful sinner,
if you do wish to not thence become dead.

Please, I beg of you, just be mine alone,
and let me rest upon your flaming throne.