Locks of hair, keep me tied up

Locks of hair, keep me tied up

in the circle of her face!

You beloved brown snakes

I have no way of answering you back.

Only this heart is permanent,

it swells in the earliest blossoms;

Under snow and in driving mist

there is always an Etna here for you.

You cause a blush like the dawn

on the earnest face of that peak,

and once again Hatem feels

the breath of spring and the fire of summer.

Waiter, here! Another bottle.

I shall offer this glass to her.

If she sees a small pile of ash

She will say, "He became a burnt offering to me."