O weak spirit

Oh weak spirit, weighed down by so many troubles

Don't you want to descend below the Earth?

Oh ardent heart, haven't you become cinders?

Oh sad eyes, aren't you fountains?

Oh doubtful good, Oh too certain pains,

Oh sweet knowledge too bitter to comprehend.

Oh God who makes me dare to attempt,

Why do you make my attempts vain?

Oh young archer, archer who has no eyes,

Why did you aim so well?

Oh live torch which enflames the Gods,

Why did you fire up my coldness?

Oh face of an angel, Oh heart of hard stone

At least look at the torment which I'm enduring.