Before he closed the gate, he attired in steel and blown off candles,
it was soon to be morning, he kissed his wife on the bed asleep,
[: she slept like a fairy, only hair shrouded her,
like a divine proportion, like mornings in the Castile,
gentle and white like dew on lily, like a moon vigilant :]
Only the gray clouds and fires on the hummocks - mute witnesses
wan lilies shined on the banners, when they strode the land,
[: a bugle disdains, soldier melody,
streams distress - the horses defiled them,
and blood shines, when felt on the lilies, by three drops :]
Blackthorn ripens, bell rings to Sunday and time goes on slowly,
rusty stains stay on the blade at the hilt of sword,
[: with hands behind the widows wander the alleys,
during tedious times they adorn themselves with lilies.
white lilies with red drops they collect kneeling :]