| For weeping, all immersed in blood The apple of mine eye is |
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| The Rose, sans the check of the Friend, is not goodly |
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| Yet once more the East wind's breathings Musk-scattering will go |
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| Admonition I make thee: Give ear nor except thereto, An |
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| Thou, whose cheek is like the gardens of the skies |
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| The Sea of Love a sea is, Whereunto shore is not |
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| O monarch, a ball in the crook of thy mall The firmament round for thee be! |
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| Whoso the tale of thy scent, By th' East wind up-brought, heareth |
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| How long, o heart, wilt shed my blood? Before the eye take shame at last |
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| Good-news-bringer be, O breeze of the Northland air! |
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