"I see through your lovely eyes a sweet light
which through my blind ones I yet cannot see;
I carry with your feet a burden
which with my lame ones I cannot;
I fly with your wings, having none of my own;
with your spirit toward heaven I am always moving;
by your will I turn pale or blush,
cold in the sun, warm in the coldest weather.
Within your will alone is my will,
my thoughts within your bosom are born,
in your breath are my words.
I am like the moon, alone,
which our eyes cannot see in the heavens
except that it is illumined by the sun."

Sonnet XXX, Michelangelo Buonorroti