2007 - 2018 12 v
Go forth, burning sighs, to that sweet place. Where it, which does not heed my suffering, remains, so proud to see, and so secure, taking life und its power as but a game. And there, armed with arrows and fire, besiege that hard and adamantine soul. So that it will turn to more merciful concerns, and so that it will take pity on my weakened laments. Go and tell the landscape of my pain, and how I go crying, short of breath. Ah, who hides from me that beautiful, gentle gaze? And then return, with it will tamed, to make my life happy and serene, for now it is loathsome to others, and burdensome to me.