What use have I of earthly sight,
If I cannot see your face?
I yearn for your lustful embrace,
Like the blinded yearn for light.
What need have I of hearing keen,
If your melody is dead?
Your sweetest lies remain unsaid,
Your guise, forever unseen.
Were I to nevermore have taste,
I would only miss your lips,
Which lashed me like a thousand whips
As they met with mine in haste.
And should I lose my sense of touch,
I would face it with a grin.
For no longer on meadows green
Have I your body to clutch.
And lastly, let my scent be dulled,
But allow me one last time,
To savour your scent, -so sublime!
By Creation unequalled.
[Originally written by the player of Crow (Derakoth)]
