In Which She Satisfies A Fear With The Rhetoric Of Tears

This afternoon, my love, speaking to you

since I could see that in your face and walk

I failed in coming close to you with talk,

I wanted you to see my heart. Love, who

supported me in what I longed to do,

conquered the impossible to attain.

Amid my tears that were poured out by pain,

my heart became distilled, was broken through.

Enough, my love. Don't be so stiff. Don't let

maddening jealousies and arrogance

haunt you or let your quiet be upset

by foolish shadows: false signs of a man's

presence; for now you see my heart which met

your touch -- and so is shattered in your hands.