How love the limb-loosener sweeps me away

You are, I think, an evening star,
the fairest of all the stars.

Eros, again now, the loosener of limbs troubles me,

Bittersweet, sly, uncontrollable creature….

Love is a cunning weaver of fantasies and fables.

I declare
That later on,
Even in an age unlike our own,
Someone will remember who we are.

When I look on you a moment, then I can speak no more, but my tongue falls silent, and at once a delicate flame courses beneath my skin, and with my eyes I see nothing, and my ears hum, and a wet sweat bathes me, and a trembling seizes me all over