Be roses torn! and let the nightingale distressful cry!
Their hyacinths as weeds of woe displaying, let them weep
Down o'er their skirts their flowing tears let pour—the mountains high!
The odor of thy kindliness recalling, tulip-like,
Within the Tartar musk-deer's heart let fire of anguish lie!
Through yearning for thee let the rose its ear lay on the path,
And, narcisse-like, till the last day the watchman's calling ply!
Although the pearl-diffusing eye to oceans turned the world,
Ne'er into being should there come a pearl with thee to vie!
O heart! this hour 'tis thou that sympathizer art with me;