IV.
Speak to the gazelle of thyme-covered plains,
To the beauty of radiant freshness,
To the mistress of the odorous necklace.
When she passes, the street appears festive.
Would she were my bride! We should find peace;
Otherwise, we shall be drowned in sin.
V.
She said, ‘I condemn thee not, oh noble one!
I am steadfast to my sworn word.