VII
In sorrow shalt thou bring forth children!
It is true! Our child was born in sorrow, in your sorrow, O my friend! I am jealous because of it. Forgive me!
Forgive me, for your part is more beautiful than mine, inasmuch as it contains more suffering. Let me look upon you with envy. Let me think of my own lot with regret.
You have borne, you have brought forth, you have nourished. It was not in my side that this little body lay. It is not my flesh this tender, greedy mouth has clung to. I have known nothing of that suffering. You have kept it all for yourself. I have only picked up the crumbs, like a beggar, like a pauper.
I have not suffered! I have not suffered enough! I look on my happiness as upon something usurped. It is your happiness that I share. It is your wealth that overflows even upon me.
I know that a day may come when we shall both suffer together because of this son. But whatever may be our common anguish, you will always keep the first place, you will always walk before me. You have forever outdistanced me along the shining road.
How can I help regarding you with envy, I who have not suffered enough?