An anonymous Dutch poem from the 14th century

MY BREAST IS SORE AFFLICTED

My breast is sore afflicted,

My heart torments me so,

By all thy love inflicted

The wound does ever grow.

Where’er I turn, where’er I go,

By night, by day no rest is given;

Where’er I turn, where’er I go,

By thoughts of thee my heart is riven.