God has not waited for a sinner's penance,
As I have waited for you to find a balance,
In your irresolute life, but you would not,
Seeing you relish on leaving me distraught.
Neither has an invalid longed for the dawning,
As I have incessantly with this tedious longing,
Albeit in a stale declension to candidly tell thee,
Profane though it is that you should lay with me.
Neither has the grave for the latterly departed,
Waited as I have like a garden long deserted,
For a tepid drop of your half-hearted affection,
Like a pilgrim soul in a quest for subjection.
But seeing as there is no hope and as I'm weary,
I'm to free myself 'n let days pass, albeit heavily.
I must no more for you light my candles at noon,
I must not waste my wishes on a beggar's moon.