NOTE: 30

25.

Ah, dear gazelle [maral], My rosebud remained withered, Dear, wounded dear [gyaral], My heart remained inflamed. Ah, dear gazelle, What use is my living? Dear, wounded dear, My eyes remained wet [with tears]. You praised your arched brow, You had loved, [yet now] you hated; A stout youth like me You slaughtered without a knife. I am young, I have no companion, I have fallen, I have no protector [ter], Speak neither well [of me], nor ill— I have no love for wealth.