AMOUR ME TUE, ET SI JE NE VEUX DIRE I Pierre de Ronsard

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Love slays me, yet I would rather not tell
of this sweet pain it is for me to die,
for I fear someone might want to rescue me
from this tender torment behind my sigh.
Though it’s true that my love-sickness hopes
that time will return my vigour to me,
still and all I’d not have my lady come cure
my languishment, so pleasing is this ache.
Be still, my heart; I feel the day coming
when my mistress, after so long absent,
seeing the care that wears down all my thought,
will hold me in her arms for a whole night
bountifully, and in this way will pay
all the interest of my substantial pain.