Shall I wonder, like thou will,
how come the sun shines as bright,
and nature's beauty's shines as still.
But more clear than the sun, is thy heart's light.
Not heaven, my love, is nearby
with the hell of loving you as close.
Nor thou will love sweet voice as mine,
nor thee has a lovely smell as the red rose.
Shall I say, thee art my mistress,
with all thy beauties, thou will rise and fall.
Nothing like gold, nothing more or less,
I shall love thee like never before, my fragile heart, love it shall.
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