1. Shine like the dawn, fair of brow,
And let your light guide the worlds.

2. Rise in my night of sorrow like a star,
Save me from the misguidance of lovers.

3. Scatter in the waste of my life a flower—
May it grow and bloom after a time!

4. Smile for us the smile of white wishes,
Laugh for us the laugh of tender years.

5. Bearing sorrow for my heart and yearning.
The temple of sorrows in its shrine

6. Brought lovers near as an offering of eyes.
Its fragrance, sorrows of dewy flowers,

7. Its call, the sighs of the wretched.
The breeze wandered through its depths—

8. Melted passions and spirits that pine.
Everything is laid low by love’s law—

9. My angel, and love cannot be easy.
The night saw only a daughter of passion

10. Who read what would be written on her brow.
She wore at its beginning the garb of passion,

11. And at its end the clothes of the regretful.
A leader spent the night twisting and turning,

12. In the stillness of the night, moaning in anguish.
He rose in the night like a vanishing specter,

13. As if the night were the shrine of centuries.
A singer overcome by sorrow

14. For whom revelry and amusement before him had vanished.
His mind knows not what melody it plays—

15. It is the return of dawn from a bygone revelry.
O night, we came to complain—

16. So listen to the plaint of the weary sorrowful.
Sorrow has led us astray and sorrow has weakened us,

17. And passion has tested us in the world of agonies.
We complained to you and came to complain

18. To you of something from the imaginings of the heedless.
O night, I recount a love

19. That faded in you over the course of years,
And turned into a ruin in decay

20. That sings in the gloom of the valley of oblivion.
O night, I recount a bundle

21. Of rays in the sky of dreamers
Which tremendous thought folded toward you,

22. Disturbing the lords among the defiant.
It turned into a boat crossed

23. By the panics of death by night over years.
This is my song I chanted it

24. For you, O my world, in the monastery of stillness.
Its tune is you, and my sorrow its rhythm,

25. And the harbinger of death some of its listeners.
Do not blame that it bears such sorrow—

26. For sorrows are the music of the sorrowful.
The most melodious tunes are those

27. In which the sighs of agony poured out yearning.
Embrace me in the gloom, draw near,

28. For I am terrified by what terrifies you.
Bring your cheek close, press me

29. To your loving, warm bosom, and kiss this brow!
We are but riders who lost their way

30. In the wasteland, among a people wandering astray.
We forgot all that was ours

31. And left in tomorrow what will be.