What is man's life but love, love of self;
Man is dust, dust as his passion, dust as the beloved. Death, it is your great act of piety for man –
You take him to your house or he'd be left to himself. Death is a covenant between the lover and the beloved;
Death is a secret wedlock between being and non-being. Death harbors the hidden port of life's ocean;
Death is helpless and a vision of beauty to itself. Death is the only witness of my life and your grace,
And O strange lord, of night and the crescent.

Death, st. 8-12