Look into my eyes.
I love you.

Do not laugh at my frank story, or I shall be angry.

Every hour I open my sensitive heart, for all my efforts are in vain--I am alone.

My one and last kiss is full of ringing sorrow--and the one I love is not here, and I seek love again, and I tell my tale in vain--my heart cannot bare itself, and the poison torments me and my head grows heavier.

Am I not beautiful in my despair?
Come closer to me.
I love you.
Once I was bathing in a stagnant swamp in the forest--I love to be clean--it is a sign of noble birth, and I bathe frequently.