My table before me. I have yet to fill it with food.
My pillow. I have yet to touch it.
My house. I have yet to find the key.
O My Heart! Thou sweet Betrayer! Thou unfriendly guest!
O My Heart! Fickle child! A girl in a lacy dress with curly locks.
You beguile me,
But your stillettos in each hand are quick to find my temples.
O My Heart! Forever I am trapped in this madness-marriage. My parents promised to find me a good, loving mate.
I trusted them. And thus, Who are they really?
My Father and Mother of spades. Father of the dark cloak. Mother of the black gown of satin and obsidian beads.
O God! Thou wert light! Thou wert softness! And now, I am crushed as I look at you.
Or, rather, I would rather be crushed. But you have strengthened me.
Why is this strength now only yet anther curse?
For I shall not be so lucky as to escape life.
My life shall be 12 times 12 years I know.
And every moment the knife in my head, my side leaking.
O Spouse! And in this state you expect me to make love?
