I turn to the left, no sign of you
To the right, same
Above, hmmmn (sigh)

The thoughts of you echoed like the chirping of a nightingale as I walked along the silent lonely path to my abode.

Many waters cannot quench love; rivers cannot wash it away.

If one were to give all the wealth of his house for love, it would be utterly scorned.

Sixty queens there may be, and eighty concubines, and virgins beyond number; but my dove, my perfect one, is unique.

It is time for my departure.