O, heart, naive, what troubles you?
O, heart, naive, what ails your core?
What is the cure for this deep ache?
O, heart, naive, what troubles you?
I, a lover, and she, aloof and cold.
I, consumed with longing, she, a distant shore.
O, God, what is this cruel devotion?
O, heart, naive, what troubles you?
When nothing else exists but you,
When every wave is a reflection of your grace,
Then what is this tumultuous storm?
O, heart, naive, what troubles you?
My life I offer, a sacrifice,
My life I give, in reverence and praise.
I do not know what prayer truly means,
O, heart, naive, what troubles you?
O, heart, naive, what troubles you?
What is the cure for this deep ache?
O, heart, naive, what troubles you?
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