My long desire and melancholy sighs
Rise up once more whenever you are here.
I weep my seven hundred thousand tears,
And waterfalls are flowing from my eyes.
Your fierce and fiendish heart is overrun
With keen and crafty plots you've put in place.
That sudden smile which spreads across your face,
Bright and revealing as a burst of sun,
Runs through me like a well-placed shot from Love's
Supply of pointed shafts. Then your next move
Breaks like a thunderstorm, swift-falling, dark.
At once, I feel new wounds begin to grow
As Cupid draws and aims his cunning bow,
And arrows rain down fast, then hit their mark.
Louise Labe c 1520 - 1566
Translation Alice Park
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