1. Had I willed I would have stemmed my tears
And guarded it from the courtyards of the land

2. Her love has surpassed in my counting
Ninety plus nine more to add

3. An unheard ear that knew not of her love
Nor the joy of sight or hearing

4. I make the lute speak of the blackened manuscript
And the lute prays for her to be cut off

5. Do not bend, O dry wood, and can you be guided
To the attributes of erectness by the spring?

6. If you were to see her crucified
You would think her a trunk upon a trunk