Forlorn Pygmalion, marble-loving fool
Obsessed creator, worshiping your art
It seems now Aphrodite is too cruel
But blame yourself for loving a stone heart
Confusing beauty with vitality
Should never lead to anything but pain
Your love is pure, though, and sweet charity
Shall soon be yours; you have a wife to gain
Just suffer now, and dream your pain is past
Your happy end draws near, this much is true
Your tears will be forgotten, and your cast
Will spring to luscious life, thus blessing you
But now for you, just agony and strife,
Who prized creation over human life