1. She rose, dragging the trains of wandering and contention,
And the cheek of dusk blushed red with embarrassment,

2. Laden with the fruits of ornament,
Its flowers did not yield to the comfort of hope,

3. The messengers of the morning breeze roam it at dawn
Stumbling in the eggs and honey,

4. A morning rain to cure its sickness, by which illness is cured,
And sometimes the bodies recover by the diseases,

5. She fears to wound the gardens of the beloved, so
She wades in the perspiration of intimacy in moistness.