What use to me that you sang long ago
The expert praise of my gold flowing hair,
And my eyes' beauty like unto a pair
Of suns, whence Love drew back a subtle bow
To shoot the bright shafts needling you with woe?
Ah momentary tears, where are you now?
Where now is d**h whereby you bound that vow
Of steadfast love which you repeated so?
I see the goal behind the ruse you gave me:
Pretend to serve, the better to enslave me.
But this time, darling, you must pardon me
For I'm hysterical with rage and spite,
Yet am a**ured: wherever you may be,
Love tortures you as much as me tonight.