1. A garden wherein are figs and grapes,
Of which wonders never cease for me.

2. The unripe of it is red, the ripe is white,
Are they perchance ruby and pure gold?

3. The black fig resembles it,
And in what I claim is no falsehood.

4. It whispers, from ambergris being composed,
And in its thickets are musk and camphor.

5. So there appeared not in its branches
Aught save what for passion is all aflame.

6. It promises that it will not be satisfied
Save by eating more than duty decrees.