Love and the gentle heart are one thing,
just as the poet says in his verse,
each from the other one as well divorced
as reason from the minds reasoning.
Nature craves love, and then creates love king,
and makes the heart a palace where hell stay,
perhaps a shorter or a longer day,
breathing quietly, gently slumbering.
Then beauty in a virtuous womans face
makes the eyes yearn, and strikes the heart,
so that the eyes desires reborn again,
and often, rooting there with longing, stays,
Till love, at last, out of its dreaming starts.
Womans moved likewise by a virtuous man.
