1. His branches trembled with feverish thrills
Beware the dune's ridge and its eyes

2. He whose teeth were a cloak as though
His tribe's swords unsheathed around him

3. How can one whose love is his abasement be saved
His passion and grace still doubted

4. His beauty's armies almost defeated me
If not for coyness laying its ambush

5. Like a sword you know its sharpness through estrangement
Rough yet its surface known by gentleness

6. He sways his frame's limbs gently towards the branches
And lends his young body the sickness of his eyelids

7. Opposites meet in love
Revealing his beauty from its hiding

8. So his words regained health
And the darkness of his absence dawned on his forehead