1. Look, for if my demise comes from your gaze,
You look upon a phantom more obscure than thought.

2. O you whose glances, when you glance, surpass
The blades - nay, surpass fate - in lethality!

3. What sickness has left of my body suffices you -
Passion's tyranny left naught therein or spared.

4. What passion settled in a quarter of its pain
I saw my tears upon it during travel.

5. Though I conceal my yearning, it's celebrated -
How can it be concealed, when my tears tell the tale?