Love is a cunning weaver of fantasies and fables.
Love shook my heart/ Like the wind on the mountain/ Troubling the oak-trees
In gold sandals / dawn like a thief / fell upon me.
May I write words more naked than flesh, stronger than bone, more resilient than sinew, sensitive than nerve.
Stars veil their beauty soon / Beside the glorious moon, / When her full silver light / Doth make the whole earth bright.
When I look on you a moment, then I can speak no more, but my tongue falls silent, and at once a delicate flame courses beneath my skin, and with my eyes I see nothing, and my ears hum, and a wet sweat bathes me and a trembling seizes me all over.