The Window

Why do you stand by the window
Abandoned to beauty and pride 
The thorn of the night in your bosom
The spear of the age in your side? 

Lost in the rages of fragrance
Lost in the rags of remorse
Lost in the waves of a sickness
That loosens the high silver nerves

Oh chosen love, oh frozen love
Oh tangle of matter and ghost
Oh darling of angels, demons and saints
And the whole broken-hearted host, gentle this soul (1)