You tread your way through my soul’s starry night.

You tread my verse and smile and think it sweet.

You tread through Paradise, whose pathway gleams
With golden hope. Dante won his fame,
But lost his Beatrice, through love and pain.

My journey through your stars means only this:
To lose, or win, your love, and pain, or bliss.

If I lose you then Paradise is lost.

No fame can pay me that eternal cost.