Torn with desire for good and evil,
Elysium and Tartarus warring,
silent we lie on the front of battle.
Few conflicts so fierce ever know such calm.
At the forest's edge so bright and serene
a stone's throw away from danger and fear,
I led you with both scandal and honor,
a corrupt mare looking for innocence.
Proven noble but sadly not valiant,
bearing kindness and yet lacking restraint,
both bless-ed and cursed with lust and with love,
unworthy shoulders carry your virtue.
Whether I fail now, you may never know.
Only I'd feel both the sting and relief.
I might for a time quench my burning thirst,
and preserve your virtue in ignorance.
My soul, though, would ultimately despair.
The thirst would return much worse than before.
Would you, in your purity, receive me?
Could you become the cure I don't deserve?
Torn with desire for good and evil,
Elysium and Tartarus warring,
silent we lie on the front of battle.
Seldom such sorrow has known such sweetness.