That nightingale so tenderly lamentingperhaps his children or his cherished mate,in sweetness fills the sky and countrysidewith many notes of grief skillfully played,and all night long he stays with me it seems,reminding me of my harsh destiny;I have no one to blame except myselffor thinking death could not rule such a goddess.How easy to deceive on who is sure!Those two lights, lovely, brighter than the sun,Whoever thought would turn the earth so dark?And now I know what this fierce fate of mineWould have me learn as I live on in tears:that nothing here can please and also last.

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