1. I passed by the narrator once,
And in his company were gazelles grazing,

2. And the gazelles of companionship were writing down whatever
He dictated, noting what he said and listening,

3. Exchanging the ink from a white shell,
Carried by four carriers,

4. Whose pure crystal color was dusty,
As if it were mercury flashing and gleaming,

5. If they overturned it, its source would not flow,
Not coveting what it contained, hastening not,

6. And when they tilted it to wet its spout,
It gave forth from its mouth, not resisting,

7. As if it were my heart, hoarding its secret,
Ever concealing all that was entrusted,

8. Availing itself of the freshness of youth,
Flowing in the field of delight, speeding,

9. Its legs a head to it, but it is rolled up,
And the innocence of its covering is severed at times,

10. As if it and the ink dye its head,
An old man pretending affinity to gain a maiden,

11. Why do I not look upon it with majestic eyes,
And through it the scrolls are raised to God?