1. Turn your dawn away from me, O my passion
I am a night in which sins have growled

2. O my youthful vigor, nothing remains for us
Of the festive nights, O my vigor

3. The color of vitality has become clouded in my hair, so
You do not hear poetry as vitality in my singing

4. Death has struck my wings
With its black palm, so fragments collapsed

5. If only you know, I am a dead wound
Bits of which were plucked yesterday

6. Death plucked bits
So in its bloody cheek is a spray of my blood

7. I am the face of the grave, so
On my sallow forehead are ghosts of demise

8. In every rib a choking anguish lodged
And processions collapsed in sorrow

9. O my sweet passion in my soul an echo
Of the tender prime nights of bliss, my youth

10. Whenever I sob in its affection
My sob chokes in it between my lips

11. And the sigh holds back if it dares
By the gesture of recollection, and my eyelid casts down

12. What dream has my prime not colored?
What horizon has my vigor not scented?

13. What heart has choked in its dreams
Have I not poured out to it my soul as a flute?

14. Of my singing remains an echo
The genius of passion, the master of melody

15. I was like the cedar in its glory
Bearing the sun as a wreath in its boughs

16. But lo the sun is a black bandage
Its colors dyed black by my visions

17. And lo my soul upon its anguishes
A bereavement urging sins to the grave