I do not want to be your weeping woman holding you to me with a chain of grief. I could more easily bear the flames of your anger than the frost of your kisses empty of desire: I do not want to be your gentle lover dragging you to me on a rope of pity. Sooner that you never touched me than that you ever should touch me from a distance made of mercy: I do not want to be your silent mother always forgiving and smiling and never loving. If you forget me, forget me utterly. Never come to my arms without interest: I shall know it: I do not want to be your weeping woman pinning you to me with a sword of tears. I do not want to be your weeping woman.