Don't cry, don't pucker your swollen lips,

Don't gather them into creases,

For that would crack the dryness

Formed by the spring fever.

Take your hand off my breast,

We are high-tension cables.

Look out, or unawares

We shall again be thrown together.

(...) However many rings of pain

The night welds round me,

The opposing pull is stronger,

The passion to break away