I would hide this pain from others; but it (only) swells
like a spring to those who drain it.
I cannot conceal this pain, nor can I relate it
without shame to him who has caused it.
(Both) lust and shame, with my soul for
their shoulder pole balance themselves on a body that cannot bear them.
There is indeed a flood of lust;
but there is no raft of safety to cross it with.
He who can produce sorrow from friendship,
what can he not bring forth out of enmity ?
The pleasure of lust is (as great as) the sea;
but the pain of lust is far greater.
I have swam across the terrible flood of lust,
but have not seen its shore; even at midnight I am alone; still I live.
The night which graciously lulls to sleep all
living creatures, has me alone for her companion.
The long nights of these days are far more cruel
than the heartless one who is torturing me.
Could mine eyes travel like my thoughts to the abode (of my absent lord),
they would not swim in this flood of tears.
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