1. Ask the love of those whose affection does not come to you
With a proud, yet neither sweet nor difficult, humanity

2. As if I and engraved from flint, wearing a coat of mail
And bodies heaped up, clad by anger

3. On a greenish-brown, his flesh in its saddlebags
A steaming youth, having drunk thrice, his drink

4. So no congratulations to him in distress, when he wandered
The sides of a bed, by Allah, how strange!

5. Winter and two Januaries until
In April, some drink remained for them