To *

Ah if you were mine, it would be a finer life,

But instead it is only renunciation and grief,

And wasted lament and regret.

I cannot forgive my fate.

Ingratitude is good, and all the sorrow on earth;

Yes, my friends in coffins, corpse upon corpse -

All these are small griefs when I compare them to

The agony that I will never possess you.