Oh Lord, my heart does weep,
when from my downcast eyes,
a tear falls like a sigh!-

And still, on my chest you find
as a leaf blown by the wind,
the sorrow I still exist.

'cos from me, what do I spur on?
so much that they grow faster
****** pity with ****** scorn.

And yet, I could never ask,
though in desdain and forlorn,
my soul be parched aside.

Oh and brief thing that eternal lasts,
it's dead in me such desire,
shaking, what do I wait from now?.

And Lord, though her love is folly
as painful, as a rose's thorn,
let it rest in me as a sweet lore

So kind thou wert that I loved thee so still
that I even ceased to act or believe,
that to another love would I ever compel
to love another who doesn't own your face.

But how agast I am to say what I cannot
for graciously thou delighted me
making me ashamed of being adored
and of a heart I always cherished most.

And yet, with joy I came so softly
like the wind that follows snow
that with thee so gently I'm dwelling
to suffer a love that is not my own.

And so, my tongue remains mute
for my love has ceased to act,
'cos loved I was but now so parched
with an endless wounded weak heart.

Oh this tender care upon my heart
that so solenmly leads me to thee
though my hate does stand me apart
from all love for thee I may feel!.

But how deep may I say this care lies
that of thee all thought do I seem to have
and so I behold before me and find no cure
that my hate is to grow deeper as grows my love.

But heaven breathes and yet I'm cursed
to love the same love I hate the most
and so all sorrow in me is enlightened
and persuade my own love to dwell alone.

But how lovely it sounds to say I hate
for all love seems hate ressemble
and then I committe no crime in saying
with thee I may follow my end eternal!.

But now what end shalt I possess
if ends the love that I so protected?
and so I may wish from a god a desire:
a long life to shorten my hatred.