1. O you whose passion enslaves me,
Whose beauty melts my heart,

2. Whose illness makes me sick, though
I struggle against his rebellion.

3. His beauty almost prevents
Me from seeing his perfection.

4. Justice never occurs to me,
Nor does affection come to mind.

5. Lost in confusion,
Never free from his name and union.

6. I long for his imaginary images,
And for the star of his unavailability.

7. His imaginary images almost
Prevent me from reaching out to them.

8. O Lord, his eyes have cut
My heart with their sharp blades.

9. And increased the darkness
With their most dark moles.

10. Why torture the ardent lover
With his aloofness and indifference?

11. If you wanted blessings for the enamored worshipper,
Hurry, for death to him is better than his state.

12. If he could buy dreams,
He would, with all his money.

13. So perhaps the lover would find peace
In his death and disappearance.