They weep for hours over the grief of strangers, yet when it comes to me, they only mock and laugh at my condition.

There is a bitter, heartbreaking irony at play here that captures the sheer unfairness of love. The poet observes with quiet anguish that the beloved has endless tears and sympathy for strangers, weeping over their sorrows for hours, yet treats the poet's own genuine pain as nothing more than a joke. It powerfully exposes the cruelty of selective empathy, where the one who loves the most is rewarded only with cold mockery.