1. You have robbed me of my rest in love's despair,
And with my tears increased the drought within my heart,

2. You have clad me in aloofness from your eyelids,
How strange the garb of one who bares himself!

3. Our loved ones - no! - and the passion which to it
My roses and my wealth are but a way, a road.

4. If you have been the means of my depictured form
Which sickness, but for union, had not visited, -

5. Those forms were not created but by you;
Without you death had lain in ambush for my ghost.

6. Let my tears water the repast of your abodes,
For in their briny spray lies the bliss of every pact.

7. Weary not of a wooer who resembles sickness,
Whose breath comes faintly and whose steps fall slack.

8. The zephyr's wont is not to tire of swaying
The tender boughs, in all their soft abundance.

9. Weary not of a wooer who resembles sickness,
Whose breath comes faintly and whose steps fall slack.

10. The zephyr's wont is not to tire of swaying
The tender boughs, in all their soft abundance.

11. Reproach not the lament of the ring-doves moaning
On the bended branches of the twigs aflutter.

12. For you have set a ring on every lover,
And they take their course 'twixt weeping and singing.

13. Give me to drink, you of the languid eyelids,
Your wine, and let my tipsiness keep slumber from me.