She kept it strung on silver string,
About her throat among her pearls.
It was the luster of her curls,
This magic-forged and golden ring.
Some sorcerer in old Beijing
Had made this as the last of nine,
For love a potent anodyne.
For broken love it soothes the sting.
What dark familiar did then bring
This object which you do not need?
You have no hurt! You will not heed,
My broken heart which needs the ring!