1. Is this a book or a garden, a meadow
In which eyes promenade among its roses

2. How they wish they could buy its whiteness
And blackness with their whiteness and blackness

3. Phrases of polished words built palaces
The spirit of eloquence rose in their bodies

4. Gems that seemed like shooting stars
Though they shone at night by the ink's darkness

5. If a passionate man sung them as verse
Their meters would grant him the finest steeds

6. One's heart becomes an eager listener
To gain the fortune of hearing their chant

7. Words smoother than the morning breeze in grandeur
Their meaning drawn from the tallest spears

8. Leave what spring adorns though flowers bloom
Among pastures and valleys in its meadows

9. And browse the beautiful garden longing
For its scent makes eyes forget sweet slumber

10. It attains every charm in its beauty
Minds become its constant visitors

11. And counts among the finest virtues
Stars desire to be within its numbers