In the Manner of a Love Song

The lovers could no longer keep silent, so they cried out; and whoever cries from longing bears no blame. They hid the tale of love as long as they could hold on; but when fierce longing overcame them, they confessed. A vision passed by, one whose radiant face brightens the darkness, turning the whole night of those it visits into dawn. The wine is passed around them while the carefree ones sleep, and they are given to drink from the cup of their own tears. I gave up my world, my faith, my heart's blood, my life, and my reason; and such surrender is pure gain. The ugliest pains and injuries become sweet when they come from the beautiful ones. And if some of us could not hear the deeper meanings, then hearing mere songs would be idle ornament and jest. I cry out with longing whenever the beloved's sanctuary is mentioned; and the utmost a lovesick soul can manage is to cry out. A visit to the beloved's dwelling is unavoidable, even if spears are planted between the tents to bar the way. There lies my sickness that is my joy, and my wish; my life, though for those who seek it death itself is success. They say kissing the fair ones is forbidden, but is shedding the blood of lovers then permitted? Indeed the happy lover longs for his own people, like a bird that yearns to fly but has no wings to obey it.