[In my eyes he matches the gods]

In my eyes he matches the gods, that man who

sits there facing you--any man whatever--

listening from closeby to the sweetness of your

          voice as you talk, the

sweetness of your laughter: yes, that--I swear it--

sets the heart to shaking inside my breast, since

once I look at you for a moment, I can't

          speak any longer,

but my tongue breaks down, and then all at once a

subtle fire races inside my skin, my

eyes can't see a thing and a whirring whistle

          thrums at my hearing,

cold sweat covers me and a trembling takes

ahold of me all over: I'm greener than the

grass is and appear to myself to be little

          short of dying.

But all must be endured, since even a poor [