LXXI LOVE
Mitchell S. (Mitchell Starrett) Buck translation
ALAS! if I think of her, my throat becomes dry, my head droops, my breasts grow hard and pain me, I shiver and I weep as I walk.
If I see her, my heart stops, my hands tremble, my feet grow cold, the crimson of fire mounts to my cheeks, my temples throb grievously.
If I touch her, I become mad, my arms weaken, my knees swoon. I fall before her and lie like a woman about to die.
Always, whenever she speaks to me, I feel myself wounded. Her love is torture and the passers-by hear my plaints.... Alas! How can I call her Well-Beloved?