Canción IX
The Wounded Heart's Complaint
The soul, wounded by love, complains to the Beloved that he has wounded and stolen her heart but left her unhealed and incomplete.
A note on the following song Like a stag that, when wounded with a poisoned herb, neither rests nor settles, seeking a remedy here and there—now plunging into some waters, now into others—and always, in every attempt and every remedy it takes, the touch of the herb keeps growing stronger in it, until it takes full hold of the heart and the stag comes to die: so the soul that goes about touched by the herb of love, like this one we are treating of here, never stops seeking remedies for its pain; and she, knowing this to be so, and that she has no other remedy but to come and put herself in the hands of the one who wounded her, so that, hurling her down, he may finally finish killing her with the force of love, turns to her Bridegroom, who is the cause of it all, and says to him the following song:1 Why, since you've wounded this heart, didn't you heal it?✦ And since you've stolen it from me, why did you leave it like that and not take what you stole?✦2
The Pain of Incomplete Love
The soul explains that the wounds of love are sweet but unsatisfying unless they lead to death in union with the Beloved, and she longs for healing through his presence.
EXPLANATION So in this song the soul turns again to speak with the Beloved, still complaining of her pain; for impatient love—the kind the soul shows herself to have here—won't tolerate any idle delay and gives her anguish no rest, pressing her longings in every direction until she finds the remedy; and since she finds herself wounded and alone, having no other medicine but her Beloved (the very one who wounded her), she tells him that since he wounded her heart with the love that came from knowing him, why hasn't he healed her with the sight of his presence.3 And that, since he has also stolen it from her by the love with which he has made her fall in love, drawing it out of her own power, why has he left her like this—that is, drawn out of her own power (because the one who loves no longer possesses her heart, for she has given it to the beloved), and has not truly placed it in his own, taking it for himself in a full and finished transformation of love, in glory; she says, then:4 Why, since you have wounded this heart, haven't you healed it? She doesn't complain because He has wounded her — for the more wounded a lover is, the more content — but because, having wounded her heart, He didn't heal it by finishing her off and killing her; for the wounds of love are so sweet and delightful that if they don't go as far as dying, they can't satisfy her; yet they are so delightful to her that she would want them to wound her until they finish killing her, and that's why she says: "Why, since you have wounded this heart, did you not heal it?"5 . As if she were saying: Why, if you have wounded it to the point of a deep wound, do you not heal it by finishing the kill — killing it with love? Since you yourself are the cause of the wound in this sickness of love, be yourself the cause of the healing in this death of love; for in this way the heart that is wounded with the pain of your absence will heal with the delight and glory of your sweet presence.6 And that's why she adds:
The Stolen Heart and Its Restlessness
The soul laments that her heart has been stolen by love, leaving her empty and restless, like a vessel waiting to be filled, until she is fully possessed by God.
And since you have stolen it from me, why did you leave it so? To steal is nothing more than to strip an owner of what belongs to them and for the thief to take possession of it. So here the soul brings this complaint to the Beloved, saying that since he has stolen her heart through love and taken it out of her power and possession, why has he left it like that, without truly placing it in his own, taking it for himself the way a thief takes the goods he stole and actually carries them off with him? That is why a person in love is said to have their heart stolen—or carried away—by the one they love: because they hold it outside themselves, focused on the thing loved; and so they have no heart for themselves, but only for what they love.7 From this the soul can tell very well whether she loves God purely or not; because if she loves him, she will have no heart for herself, nor for pursuing her own pleasure or gain, but only for the honor and glory of God and for pleasing him—because the more she keeps her heart for herself, the less she has it for God. And you can tell whether the heart is thoroughly stolen by God by one of two signs: whether it carries longing for God and takes delight in nothing but him, as the soul shows here; the reason is that the heart cannot be at peace or at rest without some possession, and when it is deeply attached it no longer has possession of itself or of anything else, as we have said; and so neither does it fully possess what it loves; from this it cannot escape as much distress as the lack itself, until it possesses him and is satisfied, because until then the soul is like an empty vessel waiting to be filled, and like the hungry person craving food, and like the sick person groaning for health, and like someone hanging in midair with nothing to lean on—that is how a heart truly in love is; and feeling this here by experience, the soul says: "Why have you left it like that?"8 That is, empty, hungry, alone, wounded, aching with love, and hanging in midair.
The Reward of Love Is Love Itself
The soul desires the perfection of love as its only reward, comparing her longing to a deer seeking shade or a laborer awaiting the end of work, citing Job's example.
And won't you take the stolen goods you stole? It is well to understand: Why don't you take the heart you stole out of love, to fill it and heal it and satisfy it, giving it a settled place and complete rest in you? The soul in love can't help desiring—however closely it may conform to the Beloved—the payment and wages of its love, for which wages it serves the Beloved; otherwise it wouldn't be true love, because the wages and the wound of love are nothing else, and the soul can want nothing else but more love, until it reaches the perfection of love; for love is paid only with itself, as the prophet Job made clear when, speaking with the same longing and desire the soul has here, he said: "As a servant longs for the shade, and as a hired worker waits for the end of his work, so I too have had empty months, and I have counted laborious nights for myself."✦ If I fall asleep, I will say: When shall I rise?✦ And again I will wait for evening, and I will be filled with pains until the darkness; "As the deer longs for the shade, and as the day laborer waits for the end of his work, so I had empty months and counted the laborious nights for myself.✦✦ If I should sleep, I will say: When will the day come when I will rise? And then I will go back again to waiting for evening, and I will be filled with pains until the darkness of night."✦ So, then, the soul, set on fire with the love of God, desires the fulfillment and perfection of love, so that it may have complete refreshment there—as the deer worn out by the summer heat longs for the refreshment of the shade, and as the hired worker waits for the end of his work, so she waits for the end of hers. Here it should be noted that Job didn't say the hired worker was waiting for the end of his labor, but for the end of his work, to make clear what we are saying—namely, that the soul that loves doesn't wait for the end of its labor, but for the end of its work, because its work is to love, and from this work, which is loving, it waits for the finish and completion, which is the perfection and fulfillment of loving God; and until that is granted, it remains always in the condition in which Job portrays himself in the passage just cited, counting the days and months as empty, and reckoning the nights as laborious and drawn out for itself.✦ From what has been said it is clear how the soul that loves God must not want or expect any other reward for its services than the perfection of loving God.
Read the original Spanish
Anotación para la canción siguiente
A manera de ciervo que cuando está herido con yerba no descansa ni sosiega, buscando por acá y por allá remedio, ahora engolfándose en unas aguas, ahora en otras, y siempre le va creciendo más en todas las ocasiones y remedios que toma el toque de la yerba, hasta que se apodera bien del corazón y viene a morir; así el alma que anda tocada de la yerba del amor, cual ésta de que tratamos aquí, nunca cesando de buscar remedios para su dolor; y ella, conociéndolo así, y que no tiene otro remedio sino venirse a poner en las manos del que la hirió, para que, despeñándola, la acabe ya de matar con la fuerza del amor, vuélvese a su Esposo, que es la causa de todo, y dícele la canción siguiente:
¿Por qué, pues has llagado Aqueste corazón, no le sanaste? Y pues me le has robado, ¿Por qué así le dejaste, Y no tomas el robo que robaste?
DECLARACIÓN
Vuelve, pues, el alma en esta canción a hablar con el Amado, todavía con la querella de su dolor; porque el amor impaciente, cual aquí muestra tener el alma, no sufre ningún ocio ni da descanso a su pena, proponiendo de todas maneras sus ansias hasta hallar el remedio; y como se ve llagada y sola, no teniendo otro ni otra medicina sino a su Amado, que es el que la llagó, dícele que, pues él llagó su corazón con el amor de su noticia, que por qué no le ha sanado con la vista de su presencia. Y que, pues él también se lo ha robado por el amor con que la ha robado por el amor con que la ha enamorado, sacándosele de su propio poder, que por qué le ha dejado así; es a saber sacado de su poder (porque el que ama ya no posee su corazón, pues lo ha dado al amado), y no le ha puesto de veras en el suyo, tomándole para sí en entera y acabada transformación de amor, en gloria; dice pues:
¿Por qué, pues has llagado Aqueste corazón, no le sanaste?
No se querella porque la haya llagado, porque el enamorado, cuanto más herido está, más pagado, sino que, habiendo llagado el corazón, no le sanó acabándole de matar; porque son las heridas de amor tan dulces y tan sabrosas, que, si no llegan a morir, no la pueden satisfacer; pero sonle tan sabrosas, que querría la llagasen hasta acabarla de matar, y por eso dice: «¿Por qué, pues has llagado aqueste corazón, no le sanaste?» . Como si dijera: ¿Por qué, si le has herido hasta llagarle, no le sanas, acabándole de matar de amor? Pues eres tú la causa de la llaga en dolencia de amor, sé tú la causa de la salud en muerte de amor; porque de esta manera el corazón, que está llagado con el dolor de tu ausencia, sanará con el deleite y gloria de tu dulce presencia. Y por eso añade:
Y pues me le has robado, ¿Por qué así le dejaste?
Robar no es otra cosa que desaposesionar lo suyo a su dueño y aposesionarse de ello el robador. Esta querella, pues, propone aquí el alma al Amado, diciendo que, pues él ha robado su corazón por amor, y sacádole de su poder y posesión, ¿por qué lo ha dejado así, sin ponerle de veras en la suya, tomándole para sí, como hace el robador el robo que robó, que de hecho se lleva consigo? Por eso el que está enamorado se dice tener el corazón robado, o arrobado, de aquel a quien ama, porque le tiene fuera de sí, puesto en la cosa amada; y así, no tiene corazón para sí, sino para aquello que ama. De aquí podrá muy bien conocer el alma si ama a Dios puramente o no; porque si le ama no tendrá corazón para sí propia ni para mirar su gusto ni provecho, sino para honra y gloria de Dios y darle a él gusto, porque cuanto más tiene el corazón para sí, menos le tiene para Dios. Y verse ha si el corazón está bien robado de Dios en una de dos cosas: en si trae ansias de Dios y no gusta de otra cosa sino de él, como aquí muestra el alma; la razón es, porque el corazón no puede estar en paz ni sosiego sin alguna posesión, y cuando está bien aficionado ya no tiene posesión de sí ni de alguna otra cosa, como habemos dicho; y así, tampoco posee cumplidamente lo que ama; de donde no le puede faltar tanta fatiga cuanta es la falta, hasta que lo posea y se satisfaga, porque hasta entonces está el alma como vaso vacío que espera el lleno, y como el hambriento que desea el manjar, y como el enfermo que gime por la salud, y como el que está colgado en el aire y no tiene en qué estribar, de esta manera está el corazón bien enamorado; lo cual sintiendo aquí el alma por experiencia dice: «¿Por qué así lo dejaste?» Es a saber, vacío, hambriento, solo, llagado, doliente de amor y suspenso en el aire.
¿Y no tomas el robo que robaste?
Conviene saber: ¿Por qué no tomas el corazón que robaste por amor, para henchirle y sanarle y hartarle, dándole asiento y reposo cumplido en ti?
No puedo dejar de desear el alma enamorada, por más conformidad que tenga con el Amado, la paga y salario de su amor, por el cual salario sirve al Amado, y de otra manera no sería verdadero Amor, porque el salario y llaga del amor no es otra cosa, ni el alma puede querer otra sino más amor, hasta llegar a perfección de amor; porque el amor no se paga sino de sí mismo, según lo dio a entender el profeta Job cuando, hablando con la misma ansia y deseo que aquí está el alma, dijo: Sicut servus desiderat umbram, et sicut mercenarius praestolatur finem operis sui: sic et ego habui menses vacuos, et noctes laboriosas enumeravi mihi. Si dormiero, dicam: quando consurgam? Et rursum expectabo vesperam, et replebor doloribus usque ad tenebras; «Así como el ciervo desea la sombra, y como el jornalero espera el fin de su obra, así yo tuve vacío los meses y conté las noches trabajosas para mí. Si durmiere diré: ¿Cuándo llegará el día en que me levantaré? Y luego volveré otra vez a esperar la tarde, y seré lleno de dolores hasta las tinieblas de la noche». Así, pues, el alma, encendida en amor de Dios, desea el cumplimiento y perfección de amor, para tener allí cumplido refrigerio, como el ciervo fatigado del estío desea el refrigerio de la sombra, y como el mercenario espera el fin de su obra, espera ella el fin de la suya. Donde es de notar que no dijo Job que el mercenario esperaba el fin de su trabajo, sino el fin de su obra, para dar a entender lo que vamos diciendo, es a saber, que el alma que ama no espera el fin de su trabajo, sino el fin de su obra, porque su obra es amar, y de esta obra, que es amar, espera ella el fin y remate, que es la perfección y cumplimiento del amar a Dios; el cual, hasta que se le cumpla, siempre está de la figura que en la dicha autoridad se pinta Job, teniendo los días y los meses por vacíos, y contando las noches trabajosas y prolijas para sí. En lo dicho queda dado a entender cómo el alma que ama a Dios no ha de querer ni esperar otro galardón de sus servicios sino la perfección de amar a Dios.
Scripture echoes
- ↩Song.4.9 — You have captivated my heart, my sister, my bride; you have captivated my heart with one glance of your eyes, with one jewel of your neck.
- ↩Song.4.9 — You have captivated my heart, my sister, my bride; you have captivated my heart with one glance of your eyes, with one jewel of your neck.
- ↩Job.7.2-Job.7.3 — As a servant longs for shade, and as a hired worker waits for his wages, Job.7.3 — So I have inherited months of emptiness, and nights of toil have been assigned to me.
- ↩Job.7.4 — When I lie down, I say, 'When shall I rise?' But the evening drags on, and I am filled with tossing until dawn." "Drags on" is clearer and more oral than "stretches on.
- ↩Job.7.4 — When I lie down, I say, 'When shall I rise?' But the evening drags on, and I am filled with tossing until dawn." "Drags on" is clearer and more oral than "stretches on.
- ↩Ps.42.1 — To the choirmaskil. A Maskil of the Sons of Korah.
- ↩Job.7.4 — When I lie down, I say, 'When shall I rise?' But the evening drags on, and I am filled with tossing until dawn." "Drags on" is clearer and more oral than "stretches on.
- ↩Job.7.2 — As a servant longs for shade, and as a hired worker waits for his wages,
Notes
- 1 ↩Spanish yerba here is the poisoned herb used on hunting arrows: the wound worsens with every attempted cure until it seizes the heart.
- 2 ↩Spanish robo means both the act of theft and the stolen prize; rendered as 'what you stole' to keep the soul's plea that the Bridegroom finish claiming the heart he took.
- 3 ↩Spanish noticia here means the soul's awareness/knowledge of the Beloved, not mere news; rendered as 'knowing him'.
- 4 ↩Supplied text repeats 'por el amor con que la ha robado' before 'por el amor con que la ha enamorado' (likely dittography). Translated the plausible intended sense: he stole her heart by the love with which he enamored her.
- 5 ↩Spanish pagado here means content/satisfied (not financially paid): the lover is more pleased the more deeply wounded.
- 6 ↩muerte de amor is the mystical death of love: healing comes by completing the wound unto that death, not by withdrawing the wound.
- 7 ↩Spanish pairs robado (stolen) with arrobado (enraptured / carried away), a deliberate wordplay. Rendered as "stolen—or carried away—" to keep both the theft image and the rapture sense.
- 8 ↩The source announces "one of two things/signs" (una de dos cosas) but only develops one explicit criterion in this sentence (longing for God and delight in him alone). Translated as written; the second sign is not supplied here.
The Spiritual Canticle companion
A daily portion of stillness
Chosen Portion delivers one short contemplative reading and a guided moment of silence each day — the ascent, one step at a time.
Chosen Portion is the paced doorway into this collection: it portions the dense mystical treatises into one daily reading plus guided silence, exactly as the 14-day plan teaches.
- Daily bite-sized excerpts from the contemplative classics, never a wall of text
- A built-in timed stillness practice that grows from 2 minutes to 10
- Gentle progression through the tradition — the app remembers where you are on the ascent