Liber VII, Cap. III, v. 53-60
53. Thou art He, O God! O my darling! my child! my plaything! Thou art like a cluster of maidens, like a multitude of swans upon the lake.
54. I feel the essence of softness.
55. I am hard and strong and male; but come Thou! I shall be soft and weak and feminine.
56. Thou shalt crush me in the wine-press of Thy love. My blood shall stain Thy fiery feet with litanies of Love in Anguish.
57. There shall be a new flower in the fields, a new vintage in the vineyards.
58. The bees shall gather a new honey; the poets shall sing a new song.
59. I shall gain the Pain of the Goat for my prize; and the God that sitteth upon the shoulders of Time shall drowse.
60. Then shall all this which is written be accomplished: yea, it shall be accomplished.

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