So kind thou wert that I loved thee so still
that I even ceased to act or believe,
that to another love would I ever compel
to love another who doesn't own your face.

But how agast I am to say what I cannot
for graciously thou delighted me
making me ashamed of being adored
and of a heart I always cherished most.

And yet, with joy I came so softly
like the wind that follows snow
that with thee so gently I'm dwelling
to suffer a love that is not my own.

And so, my tongue remains mute
for my love has ceased to act,
'cos loved I was but now so parched
with an endless wounded weak heart.