From the 12th century comes one of my favorite verses, written by a nun to a cleric (!).
Who was she? Who was the cleric she was writing to? What happened to them? Did she make her confession to him? We'll never know as the verse is anonymous. The only vestiges of their love and existence are these scant 6 lines. I wonder what circumstances arose to put them into their clerical state. Were they lovers before entering the orders, and were they forced into an exile within the church, much like Lancelot and Guenevere? Or was it after they they took their vows that they met and fell desperately in Love?
Lost. They are lost in Time but for her words set down on paper/parchment and then discovered, centuries later by someone of whom they could hardly have dreamt.
Its simplicity is charming and the sentiment sweet. (The translation is mine from the original Mittelhochdeutsche.)
Dû bist mîn, ich bin dîn:
Des solt dû gewis sîn.
Dû bist beslozzen
In mînem herzen:
Verlorn ist daz slüzzelîn:
Dû muost immer drinne sîn.
(Thou art mine, I am thine.
This thou should'st know.
Thou art locked
In my heart:
Lost is the little key:
Thou must always therein be.)
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