I am absent, and desire makes my soul die

I am absent, and desire makes my soul die; and I meet him and am not cured, so ’tis desire whether I am absent or present.
And meeting with him creates in me what I never imagined; and the remedy is a second disease of passion,
Because I behold a form whose beauty, as often as we meet, grows in splendour and majesty.
Hence there is no escape from a passion that increases in correspondence with every increase in his loveliness according to a predestined scale.