The world cannot show less pity

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The world cannot show less pity
than that which now it shows to me:
all love fails, except that for oneself,
and it is envy that conquers all the world.
If to do good man has to make an effort,
how will he do it, if all is against it?
I see the hearts of men are harder than wood,
and no one is sorry for another's ills.
He who knows no mercy can have none
for the one who lies in torment and in pain;
and so, with all my heart I pardon every one
who does not mourn the suffering of my heart.
In secret, with an unaccustomed pain,
fortune makes me feel its displeasure.
Of love I do not complain, though it leads me to death.
I am indifferent to times passed, good or bad.
I need no other help from your love
except for your eyes to show me you love me.
Anything surer of you I cannot know,
and I need look for nothing more to be happy.
I see many men are loved without loving
and the liar is believed as much as he wants,
and I feel I am so overcome by love
that I cannot say how much I am in love!
Love, oh love, I have cut a habit
from your cloth to dress my spirit;
when I first wore it, it felt too wide,
but when I wear it now, it is too tight.

Autor(es): Ausiàs March, Raimon

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