Why does my tall cypress not incline towards the meadow?

It does not become the companion of the rose, nor does it remember the jasmine.

Yesterday I complained about her tresses, and out of regret

She said, 'This black curl does not listen to me.'

Since my wandering heart went to the curl of her tresses

It has not decided to return from that long journey.

Before the bow of her eyebrow, I plead, but

She has turned her ear away and does not listen to me.

With all the folds of your skirt, I am amazed by the breeze

For your passing does not turn the dust into musk of Khotan.

When the breeze makes the violet's tresses curl

Oh, how my heart remembers that promise-breaker.

The heart, in hope of her face, does not become the companion of the soul

The soul, in longing for her street, does not serve the body.

O silver-legged cupbearer, even if you give all the pain

Who is it that, like a wine cup, does not become all mouth?

Do not make my tears a victim of cruelty, for the cloud's bounty

Without the help of my tears, does not rain in Eden.