I would hide this sickness, but it wells up Like water drawn from a spring. Hide this sickness, I cannot. To tell him who caused it, I am ashamed. Love and shame hang poised on my life. My body unable to bear them. There is indeed a flood of lust; But no safe raft to swim across it. If his friendship can bring so much misery, How will it be in enmity? The pleasure of love is as vast as the sea. Vaster still is the sorrow of its hurt. Whirling in the stormy sea of love, I find no shore; Even at midnight I am alone. Poor night, putting all things to sleep, Has only me for company. Even crueler than my cruel lord Are the long nights of these days. If eyes could also reach him like the heart, They won’t be swimming in a flood of tears.