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I find no peace, but for war am not inclined; I fear, yet hope; I burn, yet am turned to
ice; I soar in the heavens, but lie upon the ground;
I hold nothing, though I embrace the whole world.
Love has me in a prison which he neither opens nor shuts fast;
he neither claims me for his own nor loosens my halter;
he neither slays nor unshackles me; he would not have me live, yet leaves me with
my torment. Eyeless I gaze, and tongueless I cry out;
I long to perish, yet plead for succour; I hate myself, but love another.
I feed on grief, yet weeping, laugh; death and life alike repel me;
and to this state I am come, my lady, because of you.