It must be of you, my loveliest countess,
that I shall ask for forgiveness, oh countess!
It is your land I have scoured, scourged and for what?
For everything but you, my loveless countess!
I've killed the passion inside your eyes, your taste
for all of life and youthfulness, my countess!
You now stand before love's tribunal, ghastly,
weary and troubled by this mess, my countess!
I beg you, disavow these charges 'gainst me
I'm no outlaw, my graciousness, my countess!