World was in the face of the beloved.
Suddenly it poured out and was gone:
world is outside, world cannot be grasped.
Why didn’t I, while I could hold it up,
drink from the full, from the beloved face,
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.