1. The figs on the branches, how fair they appear
Skin torn, neck bent over, as if in fear

2. Like a generous lord robbed of his treasure
After new hardships his form beyond measure

3. Or like my vexed brother in furious rage
Tearing his clothes in grief he can't assuage

4. His shape is like that of virgins' breasts
If not for cries urging him on through the ways

5. For us the poisoned hand tied him fast
So the melodious, untouched dove is aghast

6. The honey, saffron, rose essence and the
Poppy's red tears in his branches amass

7. Come let us hurry to him, be first to get near
Before the dew dries off his leaves and gear

8. And turn me not to another, for I
Won't leave him as long as breath's in me nigh