1. For every lover, O my love, there is a watcher,
And for every body there is a share of sickness,

2. And I, in my family and home, for what I see
Of the strange illness that has befallen you, am a stranger,

3. And he did not know what a watcher was in his grief,
A watcher over him, while healing was his beloved,

4. And if eyes congealed in him, then perhaps
Hearts will insist on weeping over him,

5. So he did not recover except after you were well again,
Nor was absent except when you were healed, O doctor,

6. And which time fails to make pleasant through his benevolence,
And becomes pleasant upon his blessings?

7. Nor did I count his return, but rather I counted my sickness near him,
And of that which he has, I have no watcher over him,

8. I disappear against my will, then I am brought to him,
So I look at the traces of grief, and then disappear.