1. Oh poor soul and woe to its mother
For what it suffered from its passionate love,

2. I would sacrifice myself for she who killed my passion,
And did not fear God in blaming her,

3. I lower my eyelids when she appears,
And cover up when asked about her,

4. I avoid looking and fear the watcher,
And await a moment of absent guardians,

5. She captivated me with neck and cheek and breast,
When at dawn she shot me with her arrows,