Fragment #16

#16

Some men say an army of horse, an army on foot,

An army of ships—is the most beautiful thing put

On this black earth, but I say nothing covered with soot

                        It is what you love

Beauty rather than warfare is what I admire

As I create my songs on my faithful lyre

My beloved, you are everything to which I aspire

                   I shall sing thereof

Hark, Aphrodite, aid me in my quest

As the quiet zephyrs blow from the west

Let me be beatifically blessed

                   Gold-showered above