Thou hast just said that what I say
My eyes are making sport of it.
My eyes which speak in their mute way,
My mouth doth ever contradict.

What hides itself deep in my soul,
The eyes, the lips, they never tell.
With love so great, with endless hope,
Some day will it not outward swell?

Thou art the first, who hast so well
My soul right truly understood.
I keep my peace. If truth I speak,
My words to thee would not be good.