By the rains, my darling,
by the brown-coloured grains in the field,
by the fish and the meat we eat,
by the blessed cow heavy with mi8lk ,
by the plough the scythe, the wind-blown full sail,
I say, no poet ever toys with the heart,
If I ever betray and besmear my tongue,
please turn then into a lightning shaft
and with the thunderbolt of dovorce pierce my heart.


My kisses will always caress your body, my dear, free and unabashed,
like a fleet of waves breaking against the tender breast
of a duck floating on the dark waters of a river at night.
If I ever act contrary to this.
then I swear by my passionate verse,
let the fiercest curse of God befall me...