A rose doesn't need a wreath, my lady, and youdon't need a robe or a gem-studded head-dress.Your skin leaves pearls wanting, not even goldcarries the splendor of your uncombed hair;Indian sapphire has the grace of sparkling radianceyet weaker by far than the sparkle of your eyes;your dewy lips and the honey-mixed harmony of your breastsare simply the charmed girdle of the goddess of love.All this subdues me utterly, and I am soothed onlyby the gentle hope that lives in my eyes.
-Paulus Silentiarius
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