Translated by A. Z. Foreman - Sonnet 23 (Men and Their Clichés) lyrics

What use to me that you sang long ago The expert praise of my gold flowing hair, And my eyes' beauty like unto a pair Of suns, whence Love drew back a subtle bow To shoot the bright shafts needling you with woe? Ah momentary tears, where are you now? Where now is d**h whereby you bound that vow Of steadfast love which you repeated so? I see the goal behind the ruse you gave me: Pretend to serve, the better to enslave me. But this time, darling, you must pardon me For I'm hysterical with rage and spite, Yet am a**ured: wherever you may be, Love tortures you as much as me tonight.