1. The sunset colors in the Taoos slaughterhouse
Are, through God's making, deeply rooted.

2. Its braids seem to have been pilfered
From the clouds, or linen left over.

3. The belts of the well-dressed have come to you
Strutting about in a garment of fine cloth.

4. As if it were the hem of a horizon that has no folds,
Or a bouquet of flowers, or the fangs of snakes.

5. It seems that the dripping of melted tallow
Is a pouring that extends over traces of impurity.

6. He still sits in my company in this condition,
His name evades my protection and purse.