You are a beautiful white dove
how cheerful you sing in your garden
like the flowers that give their aroma
like in the afternoons of the month of April
I once wanted to marry you
but my intention was in vain
but I do not curse that time
you are the cause of my passion
there are black eyes, they are killing me
with that way of looking
I well understand and I am not unaware of it
that I am sick with so much illness.