Rest well, love, in this balmy garden.
Leaves above your head sway in the wind,
and the beautiful girls will sing you to sleep.
You no longer need their records since they now stand before you,
dressed brilliantly in ivory gowns with flowing sashes.
May God collect in His crystal bottle each tear I shed here on earth for you;
then mercifully sprinkle them upon your roses,
so at dawn you will have morning dew.