I have nothing but my sorrow and I want nothing more. It has been, it still is, faithful to me.

Why should I begrudge it since during the hours when my soul crushed the depths of my heart, it was seated there beside me?

O' Sorrow, I have ended, you see, by respecting you, because I am certain you shall never leave me.

Ah! I realize it: your beauty lies in the force of your being. You are like those who never left the sad 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 may once again attempt to enter my heart.