1. Where is the beloved summer, for I see no
Glow to awaken it, nor any dreams

2. The air is choked by tears of loneliness
And the sun wearies the clouds with strife

3. Who has turned him from us, we who are his flock
Yet I did not rebel, and he was the imam

4. Does his time come with an unjust mocker
And is his gentle birth but darkness?

5. For whom have the beautiful flowers adorned themselves
And the bees and insects as they rise up high?

6. For whom have the ghosts perfumed themselves and stirred
And tones echoed in our souls?

7. He is lost from us, yet those are his meadows
Why then have the meadows given us omens?

8. We yearn for the beautiful warmth but see only
The mocking, blaming winter

9. It is as if all these scenes
Are fantasy, excess, and vanity