Have mercy, do not be harsh and cruel, my master.
I loved him, and love is not in one's hands.
He who gave life to his child has died,
And you are the child, and you are my eternal son.
I nursed you with tender love so you might see
That love is like fragrance or like tomorrow.
Do not, do not speak ill of him.
Do not, do not say: "Mother, keep him away from you."
I loved his graceful stature.
I loved his intellect, O my soul, bear witness.
I told him all the stories about you,
From the time of manhood and the verdant bloom of birth.
I told him of your most precious love.
If I were given a choice, I would choose suffering, O my master.
Have mercy on him, my son, do not forsake my joy,
For gray has crept into the hair of a mother with curly hair.
He is my second love and the solace of my loneliness.
I wasted my life in black dress.
**
