Those that enjoyed love and now mourn in affliction Have nothing but the madal for strength. Away with shame! Soul and body can bear no more, And will mount the madal. Modesty and manliness once I owned, But now only the madal ridden by the lustful. Alas, the raft of modesty and manliness is swept away By the rushing tide of lust! The maiden with her armlets of garland Gave me the madal and the pangs of eventide. Even at midnight I think of riding the madal, Unable to close my eyes because of her. Nothing grandeur than women! Their love may rage like sea, Yet don’t mount the madal! Pitiless love with no regard for modesty, Betrays itself to reveal the secrets public. Perplexed is my passion that it roves in public With complaints of being unnoticed. Fools laugh so as to be seen by us, Not having endured what we have.