—is such thy fate， my heart！
Ah， death were better by far for thee！
Misery knocks at thy door，
And her message is that thy lord is wakeful，
And he calls thee to the love-tryst through the darkness of night.
The sky is overcast with clouds and the rain is ceaseless.
I know not what this is that stirs in me，
—I know not its meaning.
A moment as flash of lightning drags
Down a deeper gloom on my sight，
