Hellaven

She... an angel praying heaven -- He... a demon wrapped in woes;
She... the pure, the golden hearted -- He. . . not heeding heaven's loss.
He... in deathly shadow leaning on the cold arms of the cross --
While from the sad Madonna's feet his simple prayer to heaven goes.

So, so you think you can tell
Heaven from Hell,
Blue skies from pain.
Can you tell a white field
From a cold steel rail?
A smile from a veil?
Do you think you can tell?

She? A princess fair as day, a crown of stars upon her head!
All angel in a woman's guise, going her happy way through life.
He? A rebel of mankind, blowing to flame the sparks of strife
And sowing hate in hopeless breasts that to revolt by him are led.

Their ways of life are worlds apart, deep oceans lie between these twain,
Between them barricades of thought, the bitter bloodshed of a race.
And yet at times their journeys cross, they meet each other face to face,
Their eyes seek out each other's soul and mingle with a curious pain.
M. Eminescu