1. We have, O son of Ishmael, a steaming pot
Of coffee turning, its aroma swirling.

2. And a garden, like a peerless meadow,
Too far for any peer to reach.

3. With legs like moist staffs, smooth,
Its hips bountiful, ample, fecund.

4. And the songstress, when she sings,
You'd think the earth stirred in rapture.

5. As we, with joy at its perfection-
Should you visit, joy would be complete.

6. So hasten joyfully to meet the morn,
For ours a day of gentle rain.

7. Though the horizon's lamp was veiled
In night-clouds, thick, unfurled.

8. The sky is chill, frowning, sullen;
The earth's face smiles, freshly tilled.

9. And between the two, skirmish and war
From which we're kept secure.

10. When thunder roared like an angry lion
In clouds that rumbled and seethed,

11. And its blades slashed the valleys,
The rushing cloudburst was unleashed.

12. The branches bent with vitality,
The breaths of breeze subdued.

13. The flowers' eyes in the meadows
Peer out, images of beauty.

14. And the cheeks of roses blush vermeil
On which fine dewdrops trickle.