I was close to fading,
until your gaze revived me.

May the gods allow me
to bow at the altar of your passion
before time wields

her lonely scythe.
It's an honor to have
a master of rhyme and military art

for a husband.
But these days young men
flatter to seduce us.

I'm not that gullible.
Good Heavens,
do I have to

take an oath to prove
I love one so beautiful as you?

Even an oath cannot guarantee
your constancy.

May the flower of your love
send its delicate roots

- deep into my fertile heart.
- In the old days,

a true knight won his
wreath of glory

before declaring his love.
He fought for the honor of his
beloved and only when he won,

would he beg his beloved
to open her heart,

assuring her he
was ready to live

and die for her.
From this costume and armor
you can see
I am a warrior.

Would that my trusty blade Artemis,
swollen with blood like a sponge,

were able to speak
she'd convince you!

Where there was a fortress on a cliff,
a wall beset with cannons,

sharp waves of bayonets,
vaults of sabers - there stood Papkin,

lion undaunted,
noble swordsman!
Please forgive
the jealous thunder

of my exaltation,
but I have sufficient fame.

All I lack is the permission
to be among Klara's suitors.

I permit you.