Tête-d'or: Who are you then?
Cébès: O Tête-d'or, all pain is past!
The snare is broken and I am free! I am the plant that has been uprooted from the earth!
There is a joy that comes with man's last hour. That joy am I and the secret that can no longer be told.
O Tête-d'or, I give myself to you and deliver myself into your hands! So hold me while I am with you.
Tête-d'or: O Cébès, whom thus I have taken in my arms, I will question you in my turn. Hand yearns to hand
And mouth to mouth, yet never do they meet, for an invisible barrier lies between.
That is the pang of love through which it is like the water that boils and disappears.
Cébès: Then love me more for I scarcely can be called a living man.
And I am like a bird that one seizes on the wing.