Love doesn't know when she will land,
and, landing, doesn't know
on which she lands - on rock or sand,
or on a bare plateau.
She picks her victims randomly,
persuades them to disarm,
indoctrinates seductively
by using her false charm.
Imprisoned by their anguish,
few can escape their pains,
so most must limply languish,
enshackled in their chains.
When finally she sets them free,
her victims want her back;
in love with love eternally,
they beg a new attack.