If at my house You will not remain,
On this sweet night what's the reason that You came?
Throughout many an age I do await,
In my hand a new garland every day.
So gentle no one else is there...
From the mouth of everyone I go on hearing.
And a song of Your affection I am singing;
Why then is my outlook contrary?
So intense no one else is there...
Even with the thunder I find no analogy.
In that case, does it meet Your liking,
Being tender, to have been framed as severe?[1]
On this sweet night what's the reason that You came?
Throughout many an age I do await,
In my hand a new garland every day.
So gentle no one else is there...
From the mouth of everyone I go on hearing.
And a song of Your affection I am singing;
Why then is my outlook contrary?
So intense no one else is there...
Even with the thunder I find no analogy.
In that case, does it meet Your liking,
Being tender, to have been framed as severe?[1]
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He exceeds any limitation of imagination.
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