Hard to bear,
these words that I hear.
Their truth breed no doubt
I lie where they sprout.
Pierce to my marrow,
These words you say
From a yesterday till a tomorrow
My heart they slay.
How this hell's gate open, I know
Not of your craft, methinks;
Those condensed passion finally blow
Whence my anguish springs!
This wind that blows seems to maim
Though, how Heaven delights its route narrow
Let me some hollow pleasure grip on in this burrow
Divinity in its benevolence will produce my claim
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem