Those words of mine, they often lie
To say the things I cannot say;
To touch upon your naked thigh,
And render thoughts into decay.

All thoughts absent, the vigor strong,
Your gentle touch shall me redeem:
As I your body cast in song
Awash my own, celestial stream.

The deed is done, wherefore we part,
Divide we must when dries the spring;
Although to me you cede you heart,
My love to you will never cling.

My moaning soul, O deep its cleft,
It looks for love in earthly creeks—
It flows on lies till nothing’s left;
Like water, rocks, it wets and slicks.