I am a painter, a maker of pictures; every moment I shape a beauteous form
And then in thy presence I melt them all away.
I call up a hundred phantoms and imbue them with a spirit;
When I behold thy phantom, I cast them in the fire.
Art thou the Vintner’s cup-bearer of the enemy of him who is sober,
Or is it thou who mak’st a ruin of every home I build?
In thee the soul is dissolved, with thee it is mingled;
Lo! I will cherish the soul, because it has a perfume of thee.
‘I am one color with thy love, I am the partner of thy affection.’
O Beloved, enter the house, or I will leave it.
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