I have only my sorrow and want nothing more.
She has been, and she still is, faithful.
What more could I want, since in those hours
when my soul was pulverizing my heart
she was there, seated at my side.
Oh Sorrow, look, I have finally come to respect you,
for I know that you will never leave me.
Yes, I admit, you were forced to become beautiful.
You are one of those who never abandoned
the sad hearth of my poor black heart.
Oh my Sorrow, you are better than a beloved:
For I know, as I lie on my deathbed, that you
will be there, wrapped in my sheets, oh Sorrow,
still trying to invade my heart.