[Re-done by Bruce Hamilton]
All beauty, we believe, should multiply,
since thus its every fragrance might endure
eternally, not have to fade and die
without such progeny as keep life pure.
Yet, you, so much in love with your own eyes,
feed your fine flame with nothing but yourself
and thus bode famine where abundance lies -
as if to stick all beauty on a shelf.
You, who right now are truth's main ornament
and life's main augurer of one more spring,
within your own bud seem intransigent
in your desire to blast all blossoming.
Pity the world, or else let gluttony
so rule you you unhinge eternity.