To bewail my heart, or gurse my innards,I know not what to do,

I fain would retain a mourner, could I but afford.

 

Forbidden by jealousy to divulge your name,

I merely ask everyone, " Which way should I go?

 

A thousand times I had to visit my rival,s door,

I wish I had never known your favourite path !

 

" You are bereft of name or fame," Lo ! he too thus proclaims,

If I knew, I wouldn,t have squandered my assets away,

 

I go a little while with every running tide,

I do not, as yet, recognize my guide.

 

The silly folks have confused desire with devotion,

Who says that I adore that dear despot?

 

Sel-engrossed I,v again lost track of his lane,

Else I would have gone to inquire about my state.

 

By my own measure I judge the world when I opine ;

Dear is the wealth of art to every human heart.