O chattering Camha… O blooming garden,
Lift the world’s weight—do not harden.
Sprinkle snowflakes upon our wound,
O wondrous embroidery… O eyes deepened.

O lips, whose blooming is yet unknown,
A question lingering, never shown…
You came, my summer, in a symphony
Of swallows soaring, scents full-grown.

O veil of lace, draped over wealth,
Be dazed—for wonder is health.
Isn’t there a shaded corner for me,
Among almond trees and sandalwood’s breath?

O Camha… I was a blazing fire,
That in a moment, turned into a stream.
Cushions of apples, raised before me—
How could I not lean in and dream?

The black lily, longing, whispers low:
"Feast on our petals, let passion grow."
A piece of lace—my vessel it became,
If the dew departs, so shall my name.

Row me across a moon so dim,
A planet lost—a world grown grim.
O sail of goodness, do not shy,
Silken cocoons need not deny.

Venture forth! The eastern wind calls,
What are we if not dreamers enthralled?
Beneath the shadow of a shadow’s grace,
A thousand dawns in waiting fall.

O wonder of wonders, O Camha bright,
O velvet praying on velvet light