The lover becomes the thing he loves
by virtue of much imagining;
since what I long for is already in me,
the act of longing should be enough.

If my soul becomes the beloved,
what more can my body long for?
Only in itself will it find peace,
since my body and soul are linked.

But this pure, fair demigoddess,
who with my soul is in accord
like an accident with its subject,

exists in my mind as a mere idea;
the pure and living love I'm made of
seeks, like simple matter, form