The honey of bees on a lofty mountain peak where the vultures live
Like a group of man wrapped up in their coats
Honey from each steep ridge and bend of the valley
From which after rainful pure water gushes forth.
Among them are pollen gathering bees in the mountain ridge
And they produce honey as abundant as the streams flowing in the valley
They revealed honey is white as linen
With no honey combs empty or broken
As if the collected pollen on their hind legs
When they flew their mountain paths were kernels of wild cherry
The honey is mixed with a red wine by a dumb boy
With short curly hair and bored pearl eardrops
As if her mouth tasted like this when it was strained
By God, or even more delicious and sweeter.