To Touch your Heart?
Since love itself is enough,
What must I do to touch your heart?.
To you it makes no difference
Whether, (like Chauvin), I strut proud —
Flaunting my independent mind —
Or scrape in Helot servitude
Anticipating each your whim.
If I dare speak, you scowl at me
And, if my silence keep, the same;
If help is offered, my reward
Is anger; and the same my fate
If I stand by and watch you fret,
Distressed by my love’s impotence.
All leaves you cold. Even your rage
Is coldly calculated to
Offend my sensibilities!.
What must I do to touch your heart,
If love itself is not enough?.
