| No less must the lovers suffer, Who press in the tavern's way |
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| Up, for the conquering flag Of Mensour the King is come! |
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| Thy body of the leaches' care For aye in need be not! |
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| Hoping friendliness From the friends abode we |
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| Many a time and oft I've said it And once more I say |
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| Breeze of the dawning, where's the Friend's Abiding-place, ah where? |
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| Burn, heart; for this thine ardency Full many a thing still doeth |
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| Enamoured am I of a fair one, A youngling new a-blow |
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| Show thy face and to thy lovers, "Leave of living," say, "take!" |
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| From the nook of the tavern last night a voice said |
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