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 [

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