Her love is in my heart and burns it up.
My heart is sad. 'Tis love that crushes it.
It leaves my heart reduced to naught but dust.
So that I am consumed by vigils long,
And never taste refreshing sleep at all.
So that I'm like a bird with broken wings,
Just like a bird who tries to lift its wings!
And so my spirit is not healed. There comes
To me no comfort nor relief. The eyes
Of my beloved are as bright as day.