The thirteenth returns ... It is still the first
and it is always the only ... or it is the sole moment.
Because you are a queen, 0 you, are you the first or last?
Are you a king, you alone, or the last lover?
Love, then, whoever has loved you from cradle to coffin.
Whomever I have loved still loves me tenderly.
It is death-my mistress—O pleasure, O torment.
The rose that she holds is the rose hollyhock.
Saint Napolitaine with hands full of fire,
a rose with a violet heart, flower of holy Gudule.
Have you found your cross in the desert of the sky?
White roses, fall! You insult our gods.
Fall, white phantoms, from your burning sky!
— the saint from the abyss is more holy to my eyes.