The languid head, the dying eyes!—
Yet she is warm; not chill, not cold,
Not like a corpse!) Hold up your head.
Why do you cling upon me? (God,
The slender, beautiful, long arms!)
Evaïd.If you leave me, I shall perish;
If you grieve me, I shall die.
O the trembling and the torment,
O the trembling and the cold!
O the paining, O the pining,