Watch,whence it rises,from the heart or the soul,

Whence doth it spring, this streak of smoke?

What smouldering heart lies buried under the sky?

Every morn a flame from here seems to rise.

Never should you quit the chamber of my heart.

Whoever abandoned such a secure resort?

Wherever she casts her coquettish glance.

A tumult,a storm begins to blow.

Who will let him sit beside,

He who is banished from your door?

As I left that lane, I felt,

As if I am quitting the world.

Love, O mir, is a heavy rock,

Beyond your meagre strength to lift.