English
Number 10
Since I cannot reach you to kiss your feet,
I kiss the ground wherever you set them down.
A thousand bodies of those you've slain lie fallen along your street;
step carefully, my love, do not set your foot upon the earth.
If out of mercy you won't look toward the slain,
at least cast a glance their way, just to watch.
Come, for without the flower of your face, weighed down by so much sorrow,
I no longer know a stroll through the garden from a walk in the wild.
There is no trace of any traveler in this valley;
I'm lost: who can I ask for word of my beloved?
Who is the healer that has hurt you? Beware,
don't stain your sweet lips with the poison of complaint.