You are the source of the sun. And I am the willow's shadow. Oh, you have struck me on the head, Wretch that I am, on fire am I.
You are my wine, my joy, My garden, my springtime, My slumber, my repose, Without you, I can't cope.
Bitter your acts, bitter am I, Kindness your deeds, kindness am I, Pleasant and gentle, so you are, Fine honeyed lips and sweet talker.
