Rhyme XI —I am ardent, I am dark-skinned, I am the symbol of passion, my soul is filled with longing for pleasures. Are you looking for me? —No, it’s not you. —My forehead is pale, my tresses golden: I can offer you endless joys, I hold a treasure of tenderness. Are you calling me? —No, it’s not you. —I am a dream, an impossibility, a fleeting phantom of mist and light; I am incorporeal, intangible: I cannot love you. —Oh, come, come then\!