In sorrow shalt thou bring forth children!
It is true! Our child was born in sorrow, in your sorrow, O my friend!
I am jealous because of it. Forgive me!
Forgive me, for your part is more beautiful than mine, inasmuch as it
contains more suffering. Let me look upon you with envy. Let me think
of my own lot with regret.
You have borne, you have brought forth, you have nourished. It was not
in my side that this little body lay. It is not my flesh this tender,
greedy mouth has clung to. I have known nothing of that suffering. You
have kept it all for yourself. I have only picked up the crumbs, like a
beggar, like a pauper.
I have not suffered! I have not suffered enough! I look on my happiness
as upon something usurped. It is your happiness that I share. It is
your wealth that overflows even upon me.
I know that a day may come when we shall both suffer together because
of this son. But whatever may be our common anguish, you will always
keep the first place, you will always walk before me. You have forever
outdistanced me along the shining road.
How can I help regarding you with envy, I who have not suffered enough?