What cure for my disease?
Give up, give up in earnest; make an ending.
These foreign deputies,
I implore you, stop sending.
They cannot touch my heart with their pretending.

All those that come and go
Bring news of you and many a dazzling rumor.
I feel each like a blow;
Sink stricken at the glimmer
Of something I can’t catch they stand and stammer.

How manage to draw breath
So long, my soul, not living where life is?
Brought low and so near death
By those bowmen of his –
To each inroad of love sharp witnesses.

Why not come and undo
The trouble in this heart? – you know you broke it.
You know you stole it too –
Just to forsake it?

St John of the Cross