Better for her that t’was only for one night,
She illuminated darkness with what His Majesty delights.
Even though this flame was extinguished before dawn,
When His Highness commanded, “have her entombed in a brick wall!”
But, t’is better she had a story like Scheherazade,
For more than one-thousand-and-one lips to impart,
To have it broken than – say – to never have a heart,
So, t’is better the savage woe thou hath cried,
To sleep and then – to die and dream again –
About a thousand deaths more by thine lovers eyes!
That’s why t’is better I say, she were buried alive,
– even if it were only to be his Queen for a night –
Than never to have loved or lived at all.