The night's town is deluged with intoxication.
The cute dream-women dance on the stage of the town-hall.
Men are beyond control; their veins are replete with
Mad emotions; their lips whistle
And their minds play with lust.
Gold drops like rain
With the beat of the dancers' lotus-legs.

These men are only physical; they lose their senses
Only for the rapture of their lustful bodies.
The stair of their dream has not ascended Heaven,
Rather it has descended to the bottom of the hell's darkness
Where the blind witches cut the foolish hearts of men
With the hatchets of hatred.