Another Poem

How wonderful is my love, by God, no one can match her; if I love her, she is worthy of it, by God. Truly, her burning passion is worth a hundred kingdoms; and even her anger and bitterness beat a hundred peace treaties, by God. For the freshness of her speech and her lovely words, one could gladly become the dust beneath her feet, by God. My soul kept longing to be with her; yet all of that longing was a mistake, by God. My heart would have unlocked the chains of its sorrow, but alas, the turning heavens gave no help. What do I hold in my hand that fate has not lodged in my heart? What task is there that this world has not made hard for me? To whom can I say that in this whole world I find no sign of a single kindred soul? In grief I have no companion; in need of counsel I have no wise friend. I cannot set foot outside my house for a single day without sinking knee deep in the mud. Rise, my heart, let me load my things onto the ox and leave, for I have no reason to stay in this place. I took two hundred wounds without a single groan; what happened, O Lord? I committed no sin. A single breath from my heart could set a world on fire; one gasp of mine could burn down a whole household. I dare not write down even one tale of my grief, for I fear the very tongue that reads it would burn. If one night I let a sigh escape my chest, it would set even the stars of the sky ablaze. What is it I carry in my heart, this thought of her, that every night burns a soul away for nothing? It would be fitting if within this chest of mine I had no heart left to burn a soul. Suppose my heart did break its vow, yes; but what grudge did the heavens ever have against my heart? I had a grieving, sorrow eating heart that I loved more than my own life. That heart of mine was a single branch of hope, one I kept ever moist with my tears. As long as I had any trace of her, I carried a whole world of turmoil and uproar within me. I searched long, and when no trace of her remained, all at once I tore my heart away from my heart. By God, if I ever caught news of her, God knows I truly held some word of her. Perhaps there never was a heart inside my body; or else, where did it go, if I ever had one? What message did he send from my own heart to me? What greeting did he bring me from my own heart?