Love, o illustrious child of cruel Aphrodite, the potent
    mistress of powerless men, what have you done with my heart?
What did I do to deserve your scorn? You are fickle and reckless.
    This heartsickness has spread over my body and mind.
Weakness will soon overcome strong limbs and my courage will fail me.
    Pitiless sadness ensues; hurt comes down in a crush.
I am a miserable fool to be tricked each time that you charm me,
    blindly believing that she isn’t as mean as the rest,
isn’t a horrible witch dressed up like a glittering temptress.
    Why do I listen to those bright green eyes or her lips?
I’ll get nothing but tears from her eyes; and colored remains of
    lies from her kisses and teeth marks in my skin from her bite.
Emptiness feels so familiar and bruises are there to remind me:
    Passion is easy to fake; romance resembles remorse.

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