I have seen many glorious mornings
When, like a king, the sun touches the mountain-tops,
Kissing the green meadows with his golden face,
Turning the pale streams into gold with heavenly alchemy,
Soon allowing the darkest clouds to ride
And damage his heavenly face,
And hide his face from the abandoned world,
Sneaking off to the west in disgrace.
Likewise, one early morning my sun shone
On my face with triumphant glory;
But unfortunately, he was only mine for one hour;
The high clouds have hidden him away from me now.
But my love is not diminished by this even a bit.
When even the sun in heaven loses its color, it's natural that suns of the earth must lose their color too.