Sentenced to Solitude,
I ask the Gods why.
I am somewhat humble,
Or at least I try.
But no love has come my way.

Those of fast flames, burning sins,
They do not satisfy me.
It's not lust that I look for,
But love pure, graciously.
The sweet caress of soft a hand.

Alone in this room I stood
Fallen in despair of all to have.
Alas, no fair maiden did love me,
I am dying of love unfed.
Reduced to crumbles, grasping the bed.