1. Blond-haired, I have not ceased to flow with him,
I fold with him the expanse like folding a book.

2. As if his feet in the meadow
Were fingers hastening the counting of fortune.

3. He flows on, and I do not know what to make of him-
A fiery jinn I espy him or a shooting star?

4. How many handfuls has lightning snatched because of him!
I wonder, what is the condition of the clouds?

5. His traces are a necklace of soft white pearls,
His striking the meadows, the phosphorescence of the mirage's sea.