Number 3

That one whose figure no cypress can match: he is straight with everyone, but not with me. His wide, silver-lined saddlebag has room for all, but none for me. What a strange devotion I keep, that I get no share from the feast. My luck is like a fish so bitter that its only longing lives in the sea. You who are unmatched in the world for beauty: don't be faithless, for faithlessness is not beautiful. Even if you can bear to be away from your friends, your friends' hearts cannot bear to be without you. No night passes without you where my body is not stiff as flint. You whose backside can hold as much as a bowl of buttermilk, more than any water-carrier's skin can hold. Why won't you come sit on my horn? Have you no taste for the show? What sin have I committed, my darling, that you have no desire for my company? To steal a kiss from your mouth: the longing burns on my lips, but I lack the nerve. Take me by the hand for one coupling, for I want nothing more than this.