1. I'm in doubt, with no escape from blindness,
Doubt will later clearly reveal its secret.

2. The cooing of a ring-doved stirs my passion,
Slaughtered by longing is her broken moan.

3. If her voice didn't stir me, fancy would -
I see her in the wide desert's expanse.

4. Exile has spread, the house is far in exile,
In desolate Tíma stars shine at noon.

5. By God, I don't know, when I blame her,
Why, or what fault of hers I reprove -

6. We left, left them, and since leaving
Do we break passion's ties or make them last?