WHILE I WALK to my King's house at the end of the day the travellers come to ask me- 'What hast thou for King's tribute?' I do not know what to show them or how to answer, for I have merely this song. My preparation is large in my house, where the claim is much and many are the claimants. But when I come to my King's house I have only this single song to offer it for his wreath.
YOU DESIRED my love and yet you did not love me. Therefore my life clings to you like a chain of which clank and grip grow harsher the more you struggle to be free. My despair has become your deadly companion, clutching at the faintest of your favours, trying to drag you away into the cavern of tears. You have shattered my freedom, and with its wreck built your own prison.