I am worn out with vigils from wooing
like stagnant water in broken gutters.
My strength, like the waning moon,
flickers out laggardly at the corridors of famishment.

Oh,I'm love sick,
for this curvaceous tender demoiselle
whose voice surpasses that of the heavenly host.

Listen to the songs produced by my heartbeats,
my love has left all women
and now hovers over thee,
it has alighted on Ahone
like dawn over darkness.

I wont...