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A single ringlet of your hair makes
the world mad with its loveliness.
Don’t let it float about, be
tossed on the wind. Everyone
will see it, fall under your spell.
Don’t cause the ones who
love you more distress.
Don’t let the valley of your love
prove to be a bitter prison,
torment for despairing souls
already worn by grief, regret.
They’ve been betrayed by love.
I’m neither rose nor nightingale
so I must leave Love’s garden.
Mournfully, I go. But you breezes,
when you wander through that
paradise, remember me to her.
Exiled, swept away from you,
I travel desolation road, bent and
shivering like stalks of wheat
caught in a thunderstorm.
I leave the body for your sake.
Standing before the soul who
understands, be silent.
Her wisdom is hard-won. Don’t
shoot poison arrows at her heart.
You’ll disturb her stillness.
