O sorrow, I have ended, you see, by respecting you, because I am certain you will never leave me.

Ah, I realize it! Your beauty lies in the force of your being. You are like those who never left the side fireside corner of my poor black heart.

O my sorrow, you are better than a well-beloved: because I know that on the day of my final agony, you will be there, lying in my sheets, O sorrow, so that you might once again attempt to enter my heart.