¶6

How can it be I am no longer I?
O my, my, my!
Who robbed me of myself and thus could be
Closer, of course, to me
Than I myself may try?
O my, my, my!
How can one pierce my heart
Who does not touch my skin in any way?
What is it then, O Love?  It seems to start
In the eyes, then it stirs and burns the blood.
Whinin, the room is narrow, yet it grows:
And what if it should flood?