No pleasure or joy for him,
For always he thinks about his shepherdess,
And his heart is heavy with love.
He does not weep because of love's wound
For this is not the pain
Though pain is gripping his heart,
He weeps, thinking himself forgotten.
This very thought of being forgotten
By his shepherdess, is his great pain.
He is so outraged in a remote land
And heartbroken with love.
Alas, says the shepherd, how unhappy the one
Whose love chases him away so far from her heart.
She did not want to enjoy my presence,
And left my heart so crushed with love.
Then, after a long time, slowly,
He climbed on a tree, stretched his beautiful arms,
And died, held fast by those arms,
Heartbroken with love.
John of the Cross
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