1. O house of India, garlanded by all who come to it,
Like powdered mugwort as high as the clouds.

2. The summer winds blew on it and swept it away,
And the wind within it perfumes it with its trails.

3. I confined my friends there so I could ask it
While my tears soaked the pocket of my robe.

4. Yearning for the days when all were alive in it
And how the likes of me could be disturbed and yearn.

5. And my hair turned white, so the lovers bid me
Farewell, a farewell like an unsheathed sword.

6. And when my worries come upon me, I console them
With a brave woman, like the thick clothing of winter.

7. A coquette with the ends of her braids complaining,
Who soils the departure with mascara and eyeliner.

8. Cast out with torn clothes from honorable houses,
Like an isolated, lonely one in the open air.

9. I have waged wars I climbed high for,
Until I kindled for them a fire with flames.

10. Under me is a bare, old, wretched mare
Like an arrow loosed from his strong hand.

11. And an afflicted ewe with snarling canines
Of gray fur in pants and hero’s clothes.

12. I broke its muzzle so it turned away,
As a delicate gazelle bends over from the grazing flocks.

13. And it played around weakly and played with me,
Then it turned away while still on my mind.

14. Youth has passed, no longer suitable for us,
And the gray hair of age has taken its place honorably.

15. Gray hair is disgraceful for one whose temple it adorns.
By God, the black hair of youth is so much better!