1. Your sickness still allures me into sickness,
Though you've recovered, and I sought recovery to no avail.

2. You've increased the fame of a beauty not hidden,
So your sickness was a fire whose flame rose high.

3. The fever of roses changes me in you when it comes,
For its sweet union does not kiss it insipidly.

4. I swear by his mouth that it is an oath
With which I honor myself among love's children an oath.

5. No mouth has kissed save that it was a lover's,
No cheek has walked save to a profound, concealed passion.

6. O garden of beauty, may you not wake up miserable,
Nor may your waterer's tears absent you long.

7. The world was not rattled by his health,
Nor did fevers freely take what his protection preserved modestly.