I could not find access to tracts where stars like pendent lamps do shine:
Tearing vest of tulips and the rose was main and foremost duty mine.
I feel an inner urge so great to bid farewell to home and depart:
For joyful songs of nightingale, no zeal or zest to me impart.
O dew, God's will has made you know full well, both park and heavens high:
What is more precious in your eyes, the dust of park or dome of sky?