I love you, my gentle one;
My love is the fresh milk in the rubindi
Which you drank on the wedding day;
My love is the butter we were smeared with
To seal fidelity into our hearts.
You are the cattle-bird’s egg,
For those who saw you are wealthy;
You are the papyrus reed of the lake,
Which they pull out with both hands.
And I sing for you with tears
Because you possess my heart:
I love you, my gentle…