A heart that roamed always near the edge of danger,
Like a candle weak, or a wandering moth, a stranger.
A thousand sorrows clung from every side,
Yet still it chased another grief to abide.
Its head was forever drunk on love's wine,
Reeling in chaos, crossing every line.
Forsaking wisdom, it embraced love’s plight,
Turning from reason’s path, lost in the night.
Fate left it without order, lost and unsure,
Love left it restless, sleepless, hungry, impure.
A thousand times I advised it to refrain,
But the heart pursued folly, again and again.
By any means, let no counsel be made,
For advice only led it further astray.