You are mine ... you are mine ... you are mine ...
This is my fierce chant at night,
This is my savage cry.

Naked, you are mine,
And all in the sweet wonder of clothes, you are mine ...
I take you with a rough tenderness: I own you:
I devour your beauty and your body and the wild lights of your star-soul ...
You are woman, a man's morsel ...

And you moan with delight to be enslaved, to be owned, to be devoured ...
You pass into me, flame and incense of the ancient sacrifice,
You ascend in me, a wind of ashes and perfume for the nostrils of the god,
And out of death like shadow of fire your great ghost is reborn,
Your mother-ghost, where I sleepily lie, your child,
Very little, your child,
Your child at the breasts of love and life ...

Then it is you who cry: " You are mine " ...
Then it is you who devour ...
Then it is I that ascend and am born ...

So the spirits of man and woman pass through each other in the eternal renewal
Of love, the miracle, great love, the miracle.