The weeping of the river,
Whilst thou were at my breast.
The stars—poor stars—were weeping,
But I would not hear their weeping,
Whilst yet I heard thy voice.
Unhappy men drew nigh, and told me of their woe,
They said: "We are the sorrow of all humanity."
But I had no compassion for human misery,.
Whilst thou wert with me still.
Then these, the river with its weeping,