(in ancient meter)
Hardly had I thought I should learn to
Ever young, enwrapped in my robe I wandered,
Raising dreamy eyes to the star styled
All at once, however, you crossed my
Suffering - you, painfully sweet, yet
To the less I drank the delight of dying
Sadly racked, I'm burning alive like
Or like Hercules by his garment poisoned;
Nor can I extinguish my flames with
Billow of oceans.
By my own ilussion consumed I'm wailing
On my own grim pyre in flames I'm melting...
Can I hope to rise again like the Phoenix
Bird from the ashes?
May all tempting eyes vanish from my
Come back to my breast, you indifferent
So that I may quietly die, restore me
To my own being!