If I were never again to look upon your face, more magnificent than pure moonlight, I shall pluck out my own eyes,
that I might never look on anything else again,
that I might delight in your beauty in my minds’ eye endlessly.
If I were never again to feel your skin, like silk beneath my caress, I shall cut off my hands,
that I might never feel another beneath them, that I might never feel myself beneath them,
that I might relish your touch in distant pleasure always.
If I were never again to hear your voice, that sweet melody to my weary ears, I shall sew them shut,
that I might never hear another honeyed sound, not in music, nor moans, nor mundane mouthings,
that I might preserve forever the last enchanting utterances to pass through your rose lips.
If I were never again to smell you, that rich, earthy scent that drives me mad, I shall plug it up,
that I might never soak in a pleasing smell, that I might never let the stenches of the day-to-day,
keep me from forever adoring the varying, yet haunting fragrances of you.
If I were never again to taste you, those sugared velvet lips, I shall take out my own tongue,
that I might never enjoy neither worldly fare nor the flavor of another,
that I might savor you in memory for all eternity.
If I were never again to have you, a painful return to the dark ages, I would cast myself wholly and completely into watery depths or rising flames,
that I might never experience time and space without you, love.
The title —αναίσθητος χωρίς αγάπη —is Greek for senseless without love.