World was in the face of the beloved—,
but suddenly it poured out and was gone:
world is outside, world cannot be grasped.

Why didn't I, from the full, beloved face
as I raised it to my lips, why didn't I drink
world, so near that I could almost taste it?

Ah, I drank. Insatiably I drank
But I was filled up also, with too much
world, and, drinking, I myself ran over.