Payment of flower-debts
Methinks that my doom is already fulfilled, or maybe my flower-debts are paid off.
Debts paid and doom fulfilled alike stir in me anguish of parting and sorrow of farewell.
When we two were so impassioned, could I have thought our love would not endure to the end?
As I muse on that bygone phase of frolic in wind and moon, my dream seems broken and my soul entranced.
When first we were united, your handmaid was yet young in years.
(The while my converse discloses to you the folds of my heart, I dread hearing the cock crow over the water.)
I did but think that, since our time was so long, we should devise a plan together.
How could I know that, because of the deep love between you and your wife, you would not escort home your lowly concubine?
You have hurt me till like the split elm, wind-riven, I can trust no ligature.
Little by little I bethink me that I drift aimlessly, therefore must I find a resting-place.
To-day men call us light of love, ‘Tis false: yet it seems truth:
For among so large a sisterhood, who can know how my heart’s love is crossed?
On my body I wear this green garment, washing it ever with mine own tears.
Alas! ‘twas not so planned.
My lord, you have hardened your heart: you are loth to look at me.
For this cause, since the day when I heard you say ‘I go’ – you never, never have returned.