An artist cries out...

O Beloved guardian of my imperfect soul,
Thou has blessed Thy ungrateful slave,
With an offering gilded with the purest gold,
To cherish till I lie in my earthy grave.

And yet this weak unworthy bearer,
Of Thy mercy and kindly favor,
Whines and moans in perpetual grief,
Laying waste her gift in frivolous dreams.

(This verse is a tribute to the poetical tradition of the Sufis).