As much death as there is in love

I laugh alone, all by myself,
I talk alone,
I work and talk,
even when reading I talk,
with myself I laugh and talk,
I talk and laugh.

If someone happens to catch me in this strange behavior,
they think I must be losing my mind.
No one understands what I am,
no one knows why I do these things,
no one thinks—maybe I'm in love!
Has no one ever fallen in love like this before?

Don't you have to fall in love like a madman?
Or am I the one who's wrong?
Or is falling in love this way forbidden?
Then how do they fall in love?
Do they even know how much dying there is in love?

Bearing love's burden, alone in love
I lie as if dead,
every moment, every instant I realize—
what an ox I am,
what a donkey I am!
When did my love become like this?
Sometimes it seems the opposite to me,
day by day I'm probably losing my mental balance.
Will I really go mad for real?