NOT as it seems, friend, brother, is my life,
For I have coveted my neighbour's wife,
His ox, his ass. And you the woman know
Whom I do covet in my soul's shadow.

Sometimes I wish that God would trouble send
To cross the even tenor of your days.
I curse myself for this, but, brother, friend,
Your generous heart knows not my evil ways.

And you have often succoured my distress,
And warded from my head fate's hardest hits.
But, brother, friend, the heart that ought to bless
Chafes at the burden of your benefits.

Yet if misfortune came, some day or other,
My heart, my vicious heart, content at length,
Would draw, it may be, from its depths the strength
To make your sorrow mine, my friend, my brother.

But you were born under a star that bids
No evil chance or sorrow you betide.
And, friend and brother, always I shall hide
My eyes' cold flashing under drooped eye-lids.

translated by Jethro Bithell