Poem XVIII

1Before thee the soul is hourly decaying and growing,And for one soul’s sake how should any plead with thee?

2Wherever thou settest foot a head springs up from the earth;For one head’s sake why should any wash his hands of thee?

3That day when the soul takes flight enraptured by thy fragrance,The soul knows, the soul knows what fragrance is the Beloved’s.

4As soon as thy fumes vanish out of the brain,The head heaves a hundred sighs, every hair is lamenting.

5I have emptied house, to be quit of the furniture;I am waning, that thy love may increase and wax.