1. My sleep has gone, no rest the livelong night,
My soul is racked with love both day and night.

2. They chide at me, and say, “For shame, give o'er,
Why moon for one who comes to thee no more?”

3. Ah, shall the tears I shed e'er profit aught,
While sadly flows in ceaseless stream my thought?

4. Unfit am I my lonely couch to press,
Reproach or threats bring to my soul's distress,

5. No kindly word that I from him might hear,
No greeting that my heart might hold so dear.

6. When we together lived in perfect bliss,
The sole delight was gazing on his face.

7. I cannot bear my comrades' loud acclaim,
I loathe the word, “Rest here and pitch your tent.”

8. Since thou art gone, I care not if they start,
Or pitch their tents, my comfort they but mar.

9. To me the thought of coming brings no joy,
I dread the day of parting, my dear boy.

10. As though thou ne'er has lived in happiness
With one whose love was perfect, boundless, true,