May God’s destruction, and His curses too, Light on that moment when I came to love A woman whom naught else to joy can move Than bringing me to anguish and to woe. Yes, she has tortured me so, through and through, That I believe no man has suffered so. Yet even that to her is not enow Whose heart is like the heart of wicked Jew. Her only pleasure is to do me ill, Such ill, indeed, that it will break my heart. In this she has unswerving constancy. Oh, would I could absolve me from her sway, Who from my dazed mind makes all else depart So that the dead have joys not known to me.
May God’s destruction, and His curses too, Light on that moment when I came to love A woman whom naught else to joy can move Than bringing me to anguish and to woe. Yes, she has tortured me so, through and through, That I believe no man has suffered so. Yet even that to her is not enow Whose heart is like the heart of wicked Jew. Her only pleasure is to do me ill, Such ill, indeed, that it will break my heart. In this she has unswerving constancy. Oh, would I could absolve me from her sway, Who from my dazed mind makes all else depart So that the dead have joys not known to me.