1. My suspicions have done you wrong,
And my groans - their heat.

2. What can raving do but add, my friend,
To all my false suspicions?

3. Or does it not suffice that I
Am cut off from all society?

4. So to you I complain of all those
With roving eyes and outward charms,

5. And those cheeks that are scratched
By the glances of all who look.

6. I've approached you humbly,
Like the meek and needy;

7. So take pity on my pain, or else
Grant me rest - kill me!