My happiness is in another's keeping,
My heart delivered to a maiden's care,
And she can cast it down or set it leaping
(The latter process is extremely rare);
Ah, would that love indeed had made me blind,
That I might put her image out of mind!
Yet if I looked at her with eyes unseeing
Her voice and laughter would not pass unheard;
I should not be a reasonable being,
I still should tremble at her lightest word;
How could I then gain freedom from the spell
Unless I turned completely deaf as well?
So, blind and deaf, I might perhaps recover
A partial peace of mind, but all in vain,
For memories pursue the luckless lover,
And only death can ease him of his pain.
Thus, having proved that I were better dead,
I think I'll go and talk to her instead.