YOU cannot gather up my look, which flows
Towards the earth, and which you seek in vain;
Friend, let it weigh down, and yourself be silent,
I have no wish nor strength to look at you.

You come to me, as men come near a hearth,
Frightened by the hush of your domain,
Preyed on by poverty and pain ...
But, just to-day, I know not what to give you,
I surely cannot give you what you ask.

Then you speak, accuse yourself,
You make your weakness more, you bare yourself before me,
Lessen yourself in hope
That I shall with a word restore your stature,
Make you bound upwards to the height you had,
Console you, and protest,
- With but one word, like a caress,
With but one word, though whispered.-
You shrink, you grovel on the ground,
You say yourself more lamentable than you are,
To force me to bend down and raise you up.
- One does this for the puniest stranger,
I could not fail to do it ... you are sure?-

... You dig your past up with a pitiless hand,
Confessing wrongs that you have done to me
Which I had no idea you had done,
Denying with uneasy, fainting voice,
All your mind's best.

But vainly you are looking for my eyes ...
I am tired, do you not know it?
O! say no more! for I would give a day of joy
To have the courage, friend, to throw to you
The word which should restore your strength and stature.

But, friend, the more your voice shakes and the more you lower yourself,
The more the wish of speaking to you flees from me,
And because you are a man, because I love you,
I long to weep at all I hear you say.

translated by Jethro Bithell