Alas! if I think of her, my throat becomes br dry, my hand falls back, my breasts harden and br hurt, and I shiver and cry as I walk. If I br see her, my heart stops and my hands tremble, br my feet freeze, a redness of flame rises to my br cheeks, my temples beat in agony. If I touch br her, I grow mad, my arms stiffen and my knees br give under me. I fall before her, and I go to br my bed like a woman who is going to die. I feel br I am wounded by every word she speaks. Her love br is a torture, and those who pass by hear my br lamentations . . .