1. Leave the mournful lute to prolong its weeping
Over the victim slaughtered, its wound freely bleeding,

2. And the day its morning parted from its evenings,
When its throngs gathered at dawn for the striker.

3. When its darkness was gloom and its pall was night,
Its whiteness by day and its armor made it bright.

4. I made patience for my heart a binding law,
To guard, though spearheads were its binding flaw.

5. The sun's orb surrendered to glorious might,
And between the leopard's shoulder blades was its site.