so would you, la gabbia d'oro persistante mia,
turn that cheek to me, turn the other cheek,
when I so wildly inflame and consume all you make?
would you gather the flickering ashes
with that so trademark brittle strength
without mourning the loss of an empire crumbled to dust?
and would you, gabbia mia, gabbia mia metto il volentieri,
profess a socratic love, a platonic love,
when I destroy and wreathe all your laurels in fire?
then could I, could I really,
profess an epicurean love, a lucretiusian love,
when hellfire does seek something evil to burn from?
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