I kissed your lips and my death began. I am a little less each day. I cannot eat or drink; I am fasting. I cannot rest; I hold vigils. I beg you for a single glance; I am praying. I give you everything I have; I pay alms. I cross the world to see you; they call me pilgrim. I sing your praises always; I am a teacher. I hang on your every word; I am a disciple. The wiles of your beauty have taught me well: Love is the secret of religion.