Return, charming Fillide

Return, charming Fillide,

to your dear shepherd;

Far from your eyes

My heart finds no peace.

To your dear abode

I always turn my steps

And I cry night and day:

Where is my Fillide?

I ask the shore:

What is my Fillide doing?

And it seems to answer:

Weeping far from you!

I ask to river:

Where is my Fillide?

With a hoarse murmur

It says: she is weeping.

Your dear face,

Fountain of every desire,

I see it at every moment

Impressed in my mind.

But seeing more clearly

that it is not with me,

I cry, weeping always:

Where is my Fillide?

I have made in my pain

A tempestuous sea;

I do not find one, beloved,

Who can relieve it.

What is Death doing, God,

That it does not call me?

I cannot cry out any more:

Where is my Fillide?