In Which She Satisfies A Fear With The Rhetoric Of Tears

This afternoon, my love, speaking to you
since I could see that in your face and walk
I failed in coming close to you with talk,
I wanted you to see my heart. Love, who
supported me in what I longed to do,
conquered the impossible to attain.
Amid my tears that were poured out by pain,
my heart became distilled, was broken through.
Enough, my love. Don't be so stiff. Don't let
maddening jealousies and arrogance
haunt you or let your quiet be upset
by foolish shadows: false signs of a man's
presence; for now you see my heart which met
your touch -- and so is shattered in your hands.