Not what I ask, but what I do not ask,

O my Beloved, proves my love for you.

And love can set to love no harder task

Than wistful silence, reticence to sue.

I lock my lips, I force a wise content

With all my being wailing for a sign.

Ah, if men knew what woman's smiling meant

When fierce and hard the heart cries out "He's mine."

Mothers of men are we, we barren ones

Who say " Be happy, dear, and play your part."

What matter how we yearn, you are our sons

Whose every footfall breaks a woman's heart.