But I am a lover: loud crying is my faith:
The clamour of Judgement Day is one of my minions. 50
My song exceeds the range of the chord,
Yet I do not fear that my lute will break.
‘Twere better for the waterdrop not to know my torrent,
Whose fury should rather madden the sea.
No river will contain my Omán:[24] 55
My flood requires whole seas to hold it.
Unless the bud expand into a bed of roses,
It is unworthy of my spring-cloud’s bounty.