Comparison of the Phoenix

Like the only Phoenix at the end of his age
Gather up the branches of the better-smelling wood
In the forest of Sabee, so that in dying
At the very least, a beautiful fire burns its plumage.

So I gather, seeing your face,
Of a hundred sweet beauty that my heart will draw:
Then I light a gently martyring fire
Who gives me life in my own damage.

The flame of the Phoenix comes from the torch of heaven,
And mine burns in the sun of your eyes,
Where I commit larceny as Prometheus did:

Also I am punished by it with a continual evil;
Because Love that changes into a cruel Vulture
Still tears me apart with an untamed hand.