Day after day he comes and goes away. 

Go, and give him a flower from my hair, my friend. 

If he asks who was it that sent it, I entreat you do not tell him my name—for he only comes and goes away.

He sits on the dust under the tree. 

Spread there a seat with flowers and leaves, my friend. 

His eyes are sad, and they bring sadness to my heart. 

He does not speak what he has in mind; he only comes and goes away.