I kissed your lips and my death began.
I am a little less each day.
I cannot eat or drink;
I am fasting.
I cannot rest;
I hold vigils.
I beg you for a single glance;
I am praying.
I give you everything I have;
I pay alms.
I cross the world to see you;
they call me pilgrim.
I sing your praises always;
I am a teacher.
I hang on your every word;
I am a disciple.
The wiles of your beauty have taught me well:
Love is the secret of religion.
