When fate deprived me of the garden, my bloody tears fell into my lap and filled it like flowers.

Here, the poet describes how cruel fate cast him out of love's blooming garden, leaving him stripped of all joy. Yet in a striking and bittersweet twist, the tears of blood shed in his grief gather in his lap, looking just like a shower of red rose petals. It is a poignant image of how deep sorrow recreates its own tragic garden, turning heartbreak into an art of enduring beauty.