If it is not my portion to meet thee in this life then let me ever feel that I
have missed thy sight — let me not forget for a moment, let me carry
the pangs of this sorrow in my dreams and in my wakeful hours.
As my days pass in the crowded market of this world and my hands grow full with
the daily profits, let me ever feel that I have gained nothing — let
me not forget for a moment, let me carry the pangs of this sorrow in my dreams
and in my wakeful hours.
When I sit by the roadside, tired
and panting, when I
spread my bed low in the dust, let me ever feel that the long journey is still
before me — let me not forget a moment, let me carry the pangs of this
sorrow in my dreams and in my wakeful hours.
When my rooms have been decked out and the flutes sound and the laughter there is
loud, let me ever feel that I have not invited thee to my house — let
me not forget for a moment, let me carry the pangs of this sorrow in my dreams
and in my wakeful hours.