What I sang so often of Love
Did not avail me much — in fact, very little.
Yet the minds of old and young
Are enlightened by a song of Love.
Â Â Â Â Â But my good fortune holds
Â Â Â Â Â So small a share of love:
My song, my weeping seem without success.
I cry out, and I lament:
Love has the days —
And I, the nights and the madness of love!