My sorrow is indelible: I lament that I am fallen on hapless fate and adverse times.
Heaven! Thus hast thou begotten thine handmaid; how sayest thou, can I gain lifelong union with my lover?
Thinkest thou I am not fain to wear fresh flowers in my hair?
Yet since my fate is fraught with no joyance, I should but waste the blossoms.
Lifting my burden of love-thoughts, I seek for a man to buy such wares.
All men I meet bid me turn down Willow Land and Flower Street;
Ever they counsel me to sell to him who offers a price aye, to sell even if no price be offered.
Payment of old debts!
‘Tis better than hawking myself about the streets.
Beware lest, your love being masterless, never a day should give your heart relief.