![]() For in her lies the entire Mercy that can lead me to enhance or to decay.Īnd I find magnificent that she panics me to this point, leaves me with a gaping mouth and bewildered! I enjoy when she scorns me, makes fun of me in my absence or even in front of me. ![]() I’m unable to scrutinize the mystery of her love, I don’t know whether she will agree to my passion, and even less when that could occur. Neither dying nor living nor healing, I don’t feel any pain of my sickness, despite its tremendous intensity. I will remain her servant two or three years perhaps, before letting her know my feeling. Such is my fear of dying from this love that I can’t envision how to speak to her. I’m all quivering shaking and shuddering from the love I feel for her, either when I sleep or when I stay up. For it's keener than a thorn, this pain that heals with joy, and for which I don't want to be pitied. And my will, I guess, abuses me, if lust deprives me of her. ![]() The desire of my heart is endless and only devoted to her, beloved among all others. ![]()
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