My love, are you? Sounding like a crystal echo My love, are you? My love, are you? In the halls of darkness, My love, are you? With mad laughter. My love, how unhappy you are! You fly so lightly without wings. You sink down to the ground without a care, To the crypt of the grave where it's fresh. My love, is that you? Look, thou art not childless, Hear the new-born sonnet cry. It is nourished by you With the poet's inked milk. And when ripe, it dies so hastily, so aesth. My love, how unhappy you are! You fly so lightly without wings. You sink down to the ground without a care, To the crypt of the grave where it's fresh. My love, how unhappy you are! You fly so lightly without wings. You sink down to the ground without a care, To the crypt of the grave where it's fresh.