1. If I had a heart besides the one burning for your sight,
It would not have added your torment to its agony.

2. Does the trembling in you portend an earthquake in the air?
Or are you a fugitive from the face of a killer?

3. And how often you circle around the house, lost,
O daughter of the open country, the dwellings of people are not your abode.

4. They said a butterfly of the field has no value,
How impoverished are people in my eyes, and how rich you are!

5. The brand of a passionate, the gestures of a poetess
Upon the asceticism of devout worshipers and hermits.

6. The arrogance of a queen, and she adorned her train
With one who melted the sun into colors and scarves.

7. I saw the dreams of all the lovers
When you stood before me at my window,

8. Those sleeping in humiliation and ruin,
And the merchants, nobles and kings.

9. And my heart told your complaint as a wondrous tale
Even before my ears heard your complaint.

10. Is there not in you the confusion of the lovers?
How then do not the lovers understand your whispers?

11. I dreamed that the summer days were over
And alas the days made your dream come true.

12. So dawn bid it farewell, shivering
And nothing prevented its passing but some of your refusal.

13. The flowers in the field lie scattered
And no bird flies except your wings.

14. The day reached out to it with a thief's concealing palm
And the night opened in it the eye of a killer;

15. Fate willed it to suffer, so stripped it
Of jewels, and willed you suffer, yet left you.

16. None of those to be judged remained but you
Nor of the good worshipers except you.

17. People gained from it intimacy, then left
While despair did not gain but your eyelids.

18. O meadow flying in the sky of meadows
And bird, like the thyme, with that fragrance of yours!

19. An era has passed in which I was playing,
Dreaming on a carpet of dreams,

20. Sleeping at night by the water channels
With the flowers and plants as your bedding.

21. So whenever your ears heard a water-drawer,
You spurred the slope, craving, your steeds.

22. And whenever a buttercup shone on the slope,
You clapped in rapture and your sleeve fluttered.

23. Yet you sipped nothing but scent, nor opened
Except to the beautiful beloved, your eyes.

24. And how often you kissed the lips of roses lingeringly
And wiped the tears of the crying narcissi,

25. And how you swayed in the cradle of light to
The rhythm of the blowing wind or its echoing tune,

26. And how you ran, enticing the children at dawn
To run with you in the field, amusing them and yourself.

27. They wished with all their souls to possess you
So they became, with their wish, your prisoners.

28. They dragged their feet until, tired,
You stood mocking them, with feet just as short.

29. Without your wings, their prey would not be safe -
They were saved by you, but where is your salvation?

30. Your strength bewildered, as your wings dropped.
You have become, in your sanctuary, wandering in misery

31. As if yesterday was not your sanctuary.
The butterfly of the field, in my soul, is its gloom

32. From what laid it bare and from losing you.
I loved it as a house you play in

33. And my soul will yearn for it as your grave.
My heart has spent the night in a chaotic world

34. Since I noticed the relics of your world.
It settles only in anxiety,

35. Like a bird among nets and sticks.
Your terraces, yesterday thriving, are vacant,

36. Today no revelry, no flutes, no singing.
A barren land, a lusterless sky,

37. Unless it is mist above your thorns.
So enough, tumultuous winds of autumn,

38. Of raging, much killing has increased in the land.
What will your excuse be if tomorrow God says:

39. "Was the butterfly one of your victims?"
O melody fading whenever you depart,

40. If you are absent from my hearing, your meaning does not depart.
How little I expect that God will revive you again

41. With the spring as before except for you.
Then the field will return, blooming in its anklets,

42. And you will return, overshadowing it, and cast your wraps on it.