Oh, my beloved with hanna-colored tresses!
  Who has screaming eyes
  And whirlwind arms

  Oh, you with violet hair
  Let you be the violet
  That grows from my grave.

  Let me hear your presence
  From the bottom of my grave stone.

  Let’s your sudden glance
  Destroy this infertile silence.

  Break your body away from the torture of birth
  Warm and naked,
  Be a red rose;
  With no clothes on
  And no choice of reblosseming.

  Break your body away from the torture of birth.