WHO will hear me? Whom shall I lament to? <br />Who would pity me that heard my sorrows? <br />Ah, the lip that erst so many raptures <br />Used to taste, and used to give responsive, <br />Now is cloven, and it pains me sorely; <br />And it is not thus severely wounded <br />By my mistress having caught me fiercely, <br />And then gently bitten me, intending <br />To secure her friend more firmly to her: <br />No, my tender lip is crack'd thus, only <br />By the winds, o'er rime and frost proceeding, <br />Pointed, sharp, unloving, having met me. <br />Now the noble grape's bright juice commingled <br />With the bee's sweet juice, upon the fire <br />Of my hearth, shall ease me of my torment. <br />Ah, what use will all this be, if with it <br />Love adds not a drop of his own balsam?<br /><br />Johann Wolfgang von Goethe<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/love-s-distresses/
