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We never drink a draught of water with joy
Until we drink wine from the hand of anguish
I have not at any time dipped bread in salt
But that I ate a kebab of my own liver

 

Nic 310

Jamais nous ne goûtons avec bonheur une goutte d'eau sans que la main de la douleur ne vienne aussitôt nous présenter son breuvage amer. Jamais nous ne trempons un morceau de pain dans du sel sans que ce sel ne vienne aussitôt rouvrir les blessures de nos cœurs.

P 555

No drop of cold water, by way of delight, we swallow
But a draught, at the hand of chagrin, forthright we swallow;
Nor in anyone's salt, God wot, do we dip a morsel
But roast meat of our liver, in our despite, we swallow.

Th 387

We ne'er in joy a cup of water drain
That from Griefs hand a draught did not contain,
Nor dip our crust within another's salt,
But that we mortify our hearts in pain.

Wh 343

I never drank of joy's sweet cordial,
But grief's fell hand infused a drop of gall;
Nor dipped my bread in pleasure's piquant salt,
But briny sorrow made me smart withal!

Wh 343

 

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