Woe is me! For I am like those who gather summer fruits, Like those who glean vintage grapes; [There is no] cluster to eat Of the first-ripe fruit [which] my soul desires.
Ai ene! Uzta bildu ondoren hondarren bila doanari bezala gertatzen zait: ez du mahats-mordorik aurkitzen, ez eta hain gogoko duen goiz-pikurik ere.