O you who have plundered the midst of the chest

O soul and a thousand souls your prey

What is your occupation but killing lovers?

What is your work but killing people?

Kill, may your hand be strong

O soul, may the world's souls be sacrificed for you

Many living dead I have seen

From the glance of your intoxicated eye

Many restless dwellers I have seen

In the fire of your restless love

Not one dead remains in the dust

If you trouble yourself to make a visitation

The soul kisses your dust at every breath

For the scent of your boundless embrace