You do not like my writhing and my straight, open look? Oh, my head
is heavy--therefore I sway about so quietly. Oh, my head is heavy--
therefore I look so straight ahead, as I sway about. Come closer to
me. Give me a little warmth; stroke my wise forehead with your
fingers; in its fine outlines you will find the form of a cup into
which flows wisdom, the dew of the evening-flowers. When I draw the
air by my writhing, a trace is left in it--the design of the finest
of webs, the web of dream-charms, the enchantment of noiseless
movements, the inaudible hiss of gliding lines. I am silent and I
sway myself. I look ahead and I sway myself. What strange burden am
I carrying on my neck?

I love you.

I always was a fascinating creature, and loved tenderly those I
loved. Come closer to me. Do you see my white, sharp, enchanting
little teeth? Kissing, I used to bite. Not painfully, no--just a
trifle. Caressing tenderly, I used to bite a little, until the first
bright little drops appeared, until a cry came forth which sounded
like the laugh produced by tickling. That was very pleasant--think
not it was unpleasant; otherwise they whom I kissed would not come
back for more kisses. It is now that I can kiss only once--how sad--
only once! One kiss for each--how little for a loving heart, for a
sensitive soul, striving for a great union! But it is only I, the
sad one, who kiss but once, and must seek love again--he knows no
other love any more: to him my one, tender, nuptial kiss is
inviolable and eternal. I am speaking to you frankly; and when my
story is ended--I will kiss you.