The string, on which pearl after pearl

The string, on which pearl after pearl

Encircles your throat,

How happily it rocks

Upon your fair breast!

With soul and sense endowed,

It is intoxicated with joy

For this godly pleasure.

What must we then feel,

We in whom hearts beat -

Warm, human hearts -

Whenever it is permitted us

To nestle comfortably

Against such a breast?