She hauls her desire from the pain of thorns (play on words: ‘shawk' means thorns and ‘shawq' means longing).

She whispers... You are filled with a (sunny) time.

In her (entourage?) (follows?) the scent/perfume of a passing moment

She strokes (its) brightness/brilliance with the smell of Spring

She always limits (i.e. refrains from) gasping

No one satisfies her except wild nettle

It (or he) alone can soften her with its hairs.

 

Its taste moistens/softens the pleasantness of the scenery

It takes over/occupies the body abandoned to whiteness (i.e. emptiness. OR referring to a body untouched?)

It plucks (i.e. rapes) the purity of a mint leaf with the rustling of its mountainous leaves (i.e with its rustling).

It leaves its scars inside her

Its thorns...its victory.

It stops the flow of breath for a while, as if forever

Then it tickles the elbow of the mint leaf with a sharp sting.