Due to her going I must tear off my garment,
To what incentive can I cure the heart's pain.
Open the tavern's door to me so that for a moment,
I confide confabulation in the wine and the wine-imbiber as a confidant.
From my confabulation being revealed, you prevent,
That the tavern elder's heart I tear out of bereavement.
Thanks to the vat that for the sake of its sympathy,
In the scene of your love I make mortar out of the occult.
One day I will come out of her love's encampment,
I make wander, from her abode, all the residents.
Oh! The unknown; being everywhere idol, appear!
So that through heart I slap my face.