True and complete love belongs only to the one who, like a moth, cannot bear the overwhelming sight of the beloved.

The poet uses the timeless metaphor of the moth and the flame to capture the sheer intensity of true surrender. Real love, he suggests, isn't about admiring someone safely from afar; it is so profoundly overwhelming that even a single glimpse of the beloved reduces you to helplessness. Just as a fragile moth cannot endure the blaze and perishes within it, the consummate lover is entirely unmade by the blinding radiance of love.