1. A rose as if constrained on its branches
In a vase made of drippings from a perfumed oil press

2. Or one with curling tendrils holding aromas in its bosom
Soft leaves carefreely above the trellis

3. As if its eyes were in sockets of stone
Blinking with the tips of its feathers

4. When it sways walking slowly in its path leaving behind debris
The arms have become accustomed after being broken

5. Swaying wherever it walks, nothing startles it
Prepared for the valleys, however precipitous

6. It came galloping together with a horse's gallop to
One quick to apprehend from it with finesse

7. The branches betrayed their length
And made the exposed roots walk any which way

8. And in its legs and joints remains
From it this night of lining and stitching

9. Facing footsteps in its trails are spills
Flowing, wetting the valleys' midst

10. And one shouted amidst the barren lands, arousing
Difficulty in the heap of desolation and nudity

11. So they knelt down in distress and confusion
Descending from between obstructed and desolate places

12. From it to the chest was a wail containing trepidation
As if it were in the bosom of one hapless

13. And the sword rattled but did not emerge while its scabbard
Bore stains of blood on the silken robe

14. Then it leaned on a niche and rested upon it
On two shoulders, one calloused and one delicate