1. Alas, spare me the night of the grave, for it
Is an inescapable destination, though I dread it

2. A bare and desolate place where the wind weaves
Its emptiness when friends and loved ones have left it

3. There the south winds moan as if
Beating it with branches of camphor trees

4. When its darkness and gloom are lit up
And adorned with the beauty of orchids and wild flowers

5. As if a caravan of musk had lodged there
Guarded by angels who preserve and protect it

6. And the bloom of youth is left behind for others
As companions and friends depart from it