Louise Labé - Sonnet 23 lyrics

What good is it to me if long ago you eloquently praised my golden hair, compared my eyes and beauty to the flare of two suns where, you say, love bent the bow, sending the darts that needled you with grief? Where are your tears that faded in the ground? Your d**h? By which your constant love is bound in oaths and honor now beyond belief? Your brutal goal was to make me a slave beneath the ruse of being served by you. Pardon me, friend, and for once hear me through: I am outraged with anger and rave. Yet I am sure, wherever you have gone, your martyrdom is hard as my black dawn.