love is a real burden

See if it rises from the heart or from the soul it flows, does anybody know the source from where this smoke arose? The sky is the grave of which person burnt in love? A ball of fire every morning rises there above. Without a reason, do not leave the quarters of the heart, does anyone in such a way from his home depart. When my feelings find their voice in these my plaintive cries, a deafening uproar occurs and resonates the skies. Where were her amorous glance its mark darts out to find, thereon a storm's unleashed, with chaos close behind. Be mindful too of your abode, you of the flaming voice, smoke is rising from your nest, take heed ere you rejoice. Who then will let him sit again, at peace how will he be, if someone rises and departs from your company. In such a manner from her street I had to go, I grieve, from this universe as though someone were to leave. Love is a real burden, Miir, it is a heavy stone, how can it be lifted by a weak person alone?