1. We stopped, else had we not been pleased with passion
We would have cried out before the watcher with lament

2. And below what we face of the pain of passion
Robes, nay hearts, are torn asunder

3. And when we saw the watcher and his glance
And my glance was a watcher over the watcher's eye

4. We turned away, and each had folded beneath his chest
A heart for him between the ribs and bosom