What need is there for ambergris and aloeswood upon my grave, when each and every bone of mine is already smoldering like incense?

In this striking verse, the poet speaks of an all-consuming passion that doesn't extinguish even in death. Traditionally, fragrant scents like ambergris and aloeswood are burned at a grave, but the lover gently dismisses the need for them. His very bones are already smoldering from the enduring heat of love, turning into incense that perfumes his own resting place with the sacred ache of devotion.