The time is such

The time is such that every wild animal
requires love, and each one finds its mate:
I hear the brave deer roaring in the forest
and its fierce roar is taken for a sweet song;
magpies and crows sing so sweetly
that their own kind, delighted, fall in love with them.
The nightingale longs for this to happen,
when his song frightens his beloved.
And so, if this distresses me, it's because
I see the ones who are loved but are unable to love
and the coarse one who passes as a suitable lover
for love prevents him from being seen as he is.
From this come my pious complaint
that indifference blinds my lady,
not knowing the servant who adores her
she doesn't want to think what or how great his love is.
Not like the one who's lost his wealth
risking it to see if he could win more,
loving you, I've decided that you should love me,
but I haven't succeeded in it.
I find I'm completely naked, wrapped in a blanket:
love has my will in pawn
and what grieves my heart so much
is the fact that she does not see my great need.
Lily among thorns, I hunt the wild goose, with a kite
and the running hare with a lap dog:
each one of them is alive in the world
and my weak breast sings the passion of Palm Sunday.