I never loved her with any hope of joy, Loving her, I never sought return.
Freely, in faith, I held her in my heart, Gave myself away, laughing, to be hers.
In love's claim I sacrificed all self-interest, In forsaking my own joy, I gave my very life.
Pride, wounded feelings, selfishness, desire for pleasure— In her love, all found their grave.
In my blood, my being, my pulse beats her melody, In my heart love's fierce fire burns—who says she is far?
Those in this world forever thirsting for happiness, What self-surrender of love is—will they understand?
What they chase after always to quench their thirst, I keep within my breast—that is my very life!
Phantom light is theirs, mine the polestar, I am forever sleepless, they forever lost!
How will they understand what kind of love this is! In it there is not—nor was there ever—hope of joy!