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.