Did you see, O mate, that the friend didn’t come?
The dust arrived but the horsemen didn’t come.
The candle burnt and melted
Yet that golden morning did not come.
We adorned the house and the table
Yet that famous guest did not come;
Sadness devoured the heart, joy and strength,
Yet the healer of pain did not come:
Those palaces were rent from their foundation
And all we did, did not serve any aim,
My heart burns for your pain and your patience,
O gardener, the spring didn’t come;
Many blossoms budded and withered,
Yet no flower did blossom;
The eye of spring boiled yet no more
Water flew to the purling stream;
O ancient lion, tied by the chain,
Who was not ashamed of being in chain,
The jail consumed your flesh but no messenger of liberty,
To you and the prison did come …
Over your noble and thirsty farm,
Except the cloud of poison, nothing did come.
Not even one from those caravans
Loaded with gems did come.
O the rarest and rarest of our time!
To you no luck for succor did come;
A long time elapsed and no brave man like you
In the battlefield did come:
Alas those ships
Did not reach a peaceful coast,
And your boundless pain, alas,
Was not accounted at all.
And your base friends in the battlefield,
Did nothing but to escape the field;
I know and your heart knows how much you suffered,
Though no symptom of grief did you display;
No bulk of rain poured on the mountain
As much as sadness poured into your soul.