The procession went along; in front was dancing.
O prince, with gold are the guns of the youths glistening.
Going down to the procession like a prince;
I wish thee in the prophet’s keeping.
O mounted bridegroom, no one is like thee to me.
Thou art as a ring of silver placed on my breast.
O bridegroom, riding, as an apple art thou;
Go to thine own before I snatch thee as the wind.
O bridegroom, riding, as a lemon art thou;
Go to thine own before I snatch thee with my eyes.