Ah, who has the power to heal me?
Now wholly surrender yourself!
Do not send me
any more messengers;
they cannot tell me what I must hear.

All who are free
tell me a thousand graceful things of you;
all wound me more
and leave me dying of,
ah, I-don’t-know-what is behind their stammering.

How do you endure O life,
not living where you live,
and being brought near death
by the arrows you receive
from that which you conceive of your Beloved?

Why, since you wounded this heart,
don’t you heal it?
And why, since you stole it from me,
do you leave it so,
and fail to carry off what you have stolen?

Extinguish these miseries,
since no one else can stamp them out;
and may my eyes behold you,
because you are their light,
and I would open them to you alone.