Sonne Hagal - Love Is A Sickness | Текст песни

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• Sonne Hagal
• Love Is A Sickness

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Love is a sickness full of woes,
All remedies refusing;
A plant that with most cutting grows,
Most barren with best using.
Why so?

More we enjoy it, more it dies;
If not enjoyed, it sighting cries,

Love is a torment of the mind,
A tempest everlasting;
And Jove hath made it of a kind
Not well, not full, nor fasting.
Why so?

More we enjoy it, more it dies;
If not enjoyed, it sighing cries,