Since my eyes don't tire of weeping
sorrows that don't tire of weighing on me,
since nothing softens the fire I burn in
for one whose heart I could never soften,

let blind Love be my tireless guide
to lands I don't know my way out of,
and let the whole world keep on listening
as long as my weak voice doesn't fail.

And if there's pity in hills, rivers
and valleys, or if there's Love in beasts,
birds, plants, stones and streams,

let them hear my long tale of troubles
and use my sorrow to cure their own,
since greater griefs can cure smaller ones.