In vanity have I climbed the ladder
Up to a hill that my heart wishes
To slumber on than that virtue upon his soul.
As god is well aware of it
His bounty dwelling on my fingers
And my mind
To embrace or to settle.
Then have I spewed genuine thoughts
In lines and in stanzas
Yet, doth I never ventured on
The others, rhymes, rhymes of meters and rhythms;
In fear to misinterpret myself
In pronouncing the gifts caught alongside the stair;
Yet, don’t consider them
For what he manifested in his hearts
And not his beauty for the mouths and eyes.