A spark, it is, you lit in my cold heart,
Now a fire to guide me through the dark;

For six moons I have been going insane,
This dame I perceive is the one I blame;

Wounding me with Cupid's piercing arrow,
I'm now in a state of delightful shame;

For sleep has left me - I'm thinking of you
At dust, at dawn, at anytime - no cue.

However, this love, a glorious wound,
Brought passion and faith to my soul, thank you.

But as I whither away,
I fear that I shall stay,
Wounded with love's insanity without you.