You do not like my writhing and my straight, open look?  Oh, my head is heavy—­therefore I sway about so quietly.  Oh, my head is heavy—­ therefore I look so straight ahead, as I sway about.  Come closer to me.  Give me a little warmth; stroke my wise forehead with your fingers; in its fine outlines you will find the form of a cup into which flows wisdom, the dew of the evening-flowers.  When I draw the air by my writhing, a trace is left in it—­the design of the finest of webs, the web of dream-charms, the enchantment of noiseless movements, the inaudible hiss of gliding lines.  I am silent and I sway myself.  I look ahead and I sway myself.  What strange burden am I carrying on my neck?

I love you.

I always was a fascinating creature, and loved tenderly those I loved.  Come closer to me.  Do you see my white, sharp, enchanting little teeth?  Kissing, I used to bite.  Not painfully, no—­just a trifle.  Caressing tenderly, I used to bite a little, until the first bright little drops appeared, until a cry came forth which sounded like the laugh produced by tickling.  That was very pleasant—­think not it was unpleasant; otherwise they whom I kissed would not come back for more kisses.  It is now that I can kiss only once—­how sad—­ only once!  One kiss for each—­how little for a loving heart, for a sensitive soul, striving for a great union!  But it is only I, the sad one, who kiss but once, and must seek love again—­he knows no other love any more:  to him my one, tender, nuptial kiss is inviolable and eternal.  I am speaking to you frankly; and when my story is ended—­I will kiss you.

I love you.

Look into my eyes.  Is it not true that mine is a magnificent, a powerful look?  A firm look and a straight look?  And it is steadfast, like steel forced against your heart.  I look ahead and sway myself, I look and I enchant; in my green eyes I gather your fear, your loving, fatigued, submissive longing.  Come closer to me.  Now I am a queen and you dare not fail to see my beauty; but there was a strange time—­Ah, what a strange time!  Ah, what a strange time!  At the mere recollection I am agitated—­Ah, what a strange time!  No one loved me.  No one respected me.  I was persecuted with cruel ferocity, trampled in the mud and jeered—­Ah, what a strange time it was!  One in many!  One in many!

I say to you:  Come closer to me.

Why did they not love me?  At that time I was also a fascinating creature, but without malice; I was gentle and I danced wonderfully.  But they tortured me.  They burnt me with fire.  Heavy and coarse beasts trampled upon me with the dull steps of terribly heavy feet; cold tusks of bloody mouths tore my tender body—­and in my powerless sorrow I bit the sand, I swallowed the dust of the ground—­I was dying of despair.  Crushed, I was dying every day.  Every day I was dying of despair.  Oh, what a terrible time that was!  The stupid forest has forgotten everything—­it does not remember that time, but you have pity on me.  Come closer to me.  Have pity on me, on the offended, on the sad one, on the loving one, on the one who dances so beautifully.