How is it that, come what may,
Everything grim and difficult passes,
And tormented, restless, always empty,
My poor heart is burning itself out?

No sooner come, than I must go
And quench once more
The glimmer of new joys
As the dark cloud of pain descends.

Away from the lights into darkness,
Away from the dawn which my eyes,
Filled with laughter from my heart,
I am back to all the torments,
To all that barren life.

O, before I’d seen you,
I could entertain desire,
A wind of hope refreshed my longing,
And the future was a glowing vision.
Now I must raid my store of memories
For what I had enjoyed with scarce a thought.

Once more among the common herd,
Once more through uninhabited country
I must roam and grieve;
The golden strands of happiness
Stripped from me, even to the last.

Still I can feel your hand,
Still, as in a dream, your kiss,
Still , followed by your lovely eyes,
The feeling that all is lost