English
Number 20
The shadow of your hair spills down and my reason loses its way;
I am a slave to your face, which shines like fifty suns.
Ever since my eyes made me aware of your beauty,
I have lost all awareness of myself; only God is aware.
The lasso of your hair pulls me toward it
because your hair is dark as jet and my face is pale as straw.
The shadow of your beauty always falls over the sun,
just as the sun's shadow falls over the moon.
Your lip is caught fast in my teeth's longing, and chasing it,
this grieving heart is forever at the mercy of my rival.
Patience and wits have left my side, and before them
my heart set off; now my eyes wait watching the road.
In this lifetime, union with you cannot be found,
for your promise is long and my life is short.