CXVII + 

Bewailing the Pangs of Separation and Pining Away + 

I smother my grief within me, but behold! it only welleth up more and more even as the water of the spring to those who are draining it. + 

To conceal my grief is now beyond me: but as to disclosing it, I should feel it a shame to speak of it even to him that caused it. + 

At the two ends of the pole which is my life, my two loads of passion and delicacy hang heavy; and this suffering body breaketh under their weight. + 

There is a very sea before me in my passion for my beloved: but a trusty bark to cross it there is none for me. + 

What will they not do when they are enemies, those who suffer one to pine away when they are friends? + 

Vast as the sea is the joy that love yieldeth: but when it taketh to burning, the pangs it causeth are deeper far. + 

I swim in the stormy sea of love, but I spy not any shore thereto: even in the dead of night I am all alone and there is none to console me. + 

Night in her mercy rocketh all life to sleep: and yet she hath none to help her through but me. + 

The Night that passeth too slowly for me today is crueller in its cruelty than the cruel one himself. + 

If my eyes can run, even as my heart runneth, to where he is, they need not now be swimming in a sea of tears. + 