O wild is heart in breast tormented
By pangs of love, and burned in fire,
Goes crazy laughing and lamenting,
Dying from sorrow and desire.
Starving is heart, famished, voracious
It wants the apples of your eyes
But has to cool itself with patience
And covers heart itself with ice.
But it’s insane and wants you badly
Your mind and body, and your heart…
It longs for intimacy madly
Love’s purest and sinful art.