Love love damned torment

1. My love, my love, my cursed torment, ; Why didn't you produce me on every treetop, ; On every treetop, on the leaves of the cedar, ; So that every poor young man would have torn you off. ; ; 2. I already torn you off, but I ran away, ; I ran after you, but I couldn't catch you, ; You were the first and the last of my heart, ; The black coffin of mourning is already being prepared for me.