1. I greeted you, O abode of love, coming from an abode,
Your clouds have not returned following the rain,

2. Heavily laden like returning camels,
Weeping with pouring tears,

3. Over the ruins of your barren tracts,
Where I spent many a night of brief love,

4. I grew old in you according to my will,
And attained through this my every goal,

5. I stir my grief with healing,
I quench it with a burning coal,

6. It casts sparks from the embers,
Red or yellow like a gold dinar,

7. As if it were molten metal flowing,
Melted, not to be grasped by sights,

8. You’d think it wine in a rotating cup,
A flashing light in the darkness roams,

9. The dark one spent the night awake in it,
His cheeks adorned with the marks of sleeplessness,

10. Turning a tender, dreamy glance,
With kohl in his eyes and a blush,

11. And slenderness in his greenness and charm,
And a figure that blamed me,

12. His saliva is sweet as filtered honey,
His buttocks heavier than my burdens,

13. My patience falls short of carrying it,
And a short-belted doll,

14. Replete with anklets and bracelets,
As if it were the rising full moon,

15. It uncovered from concealment and mystery,
It rises from the horizon of buds,

16. I suspended it in the tavern of the wine-seller,
I took off my chastity for it,

17. What’s wrong with my brother of dignity and composure,
And I never ceased to rend veils,

18. I speak of wraps and wine,
And drinking in taverns and gambling,

19. And I love boys and maids,
I live my life according to my choice,

20. Before regrets are taken back,
And I rarely thought about poverty,

21. Or feared the calamities of old age,
I spend in hardship and in ease,

22. And the eye of profit was in loss,
And a garden with aromatic flowers,

23. Whose breaths are fragrant,
And the saliva of branches and trees,

24. From the chaste, pure meadows,
They lean to the side of the flowing stream,

25. With the tongues of partridges and hares,
We laugh with the smiles of narcissi and tulips,

26. Where generosity of rain spent the night,
So it adorned itself in the morning with seeds,

27. As if it were the medicinal powder of the perfumer,
It breathes from a scarf and a cave,

28. Preceded by a running brook,
Sweet and recently filled from springs,

29. Pure from foam and turbidity,
Finer than my tears and poetry,

30. Confiding its secrets to the visitor,
Until he sees what lay hidden in the burrows,

31. I took it at dawn and with innovation,
And night had turned its back and fled,

32. Its army prepared to desert,
So we were deluded by the shining planet,

33. And the birds did not appear from their nests,
And dawn had announced mobilization,

34. With young braves of valiant deeds,
Glorious, generous and noble men,

35. Known for their truthfulness in speech,
And every daring hero attacks,

36. Vanquishing fate through boldness,
As if he is a fierce lion in its lair,

37. Most awe-inspiring, fearing no disgrace,
Of lush branches and pure carving,

38. Refined of every defect and blemish,
Until the light of day cast its robe,

39. And spread the horizons with its lights,
And flocks of birds approached,

40. In a great army with endless numbers,
Of diverse forms and feathers,

41. Of varied dresses and costumes,
Some white like cotton wool,

42. Others famous like the generous knight,
You’d think it was the light of day,

43. Composed of frost and fire,
And the hoopoe cloaked in its wrap,

44. Its red skirt like blossoming pomegranate,
In a worn out garment with loose buttons,

45. Made from night and from day,
Successful away from home,

46. Its yellow forehead like a gold dinar,
As if it were a non-Muslim in hiding,

47. Prayer mark on its forehead, blackish,
As if its beak was made of tar,

48. So fate led it to the hunting ground,
And it went out to pasture at dawn,

49. Certain that lives are short,
On the edge of crumbling cliffs,

50. And we were seized with yearning for the wilderness,
And weary for clouds the color of tar,

51. Which appeared with golden dawn,
Its necklaces and chains removed,

52. Freed from the shackles of captivity,
As if they were ferocious lions,

53. Descended from the dangerous breed,
They charge into fire and flames,

54. With no peer in skill,
Their whiteness in the darkness of night,

55. Is sweeter to me than melodies of strings,
Excellent is the choosing of the expert selector,

56. Pleasing to the eyes of onlookers,
But hideous in its vestiges,

57. Beware of its arrows, beware,
For they are more potent than swords,

58. And the chests of fiery horses,
Similar in size and measure,

59. As if a hail of stones,
The small more deadly than the large,

60. Rising in swirling dust,
Swifter than the descent of fates,

61. With the like of unleashed arrows,
The wing of the watching bird fell,

62. It silences him before flapping and soaring,
It penetrates his belly into a den,

63. The writhing of the fox in bushes,
A respite for every severed life,

64. Perfected with harvesting and passing,
Yellowed with no yellowing fault,

65. In the grip of a harmful archer,
His right supported by the left,

66. So he remained in the depths of the dust cloud,
Hastening them, unleashing without haste,

67. A hidden shooting like the flame of fire,
More secret than a wink or gesture,

68. So they dispersed by the power of the Almighty,
Around the archers, however dispersed,

69. Like the skirmish of dogs or war,
If only you could see them in the swirling blood,

70. With necks and sights humbled,
Searching in the mire and dirt,

71. Severed limbs and bodies,
Struck with humiliation and disgrace,

72. Few in support and aid,
You'd think them the slaughtered sheep of the butcher,

73. So how much noble blood we spilled,
With none to seek vengeance,

74. O trip that arrived from travels,
And shooting match that fulfilled my pride,

75. Blessed arriving and leaving,
I spent my time at it shooting,

76. And succeeded in skill over my peers,
I preserved my repute in hunting birds,

77. And its home near my home,
And I would not neglect the right of a neighbor,

78. I established it with ruin and victory,
Unlike the custom of visitors,

79. So my bowstrings did not weep for it,
Nor did the sanctity of a neighbor forbid me,

80. And I returned high in resolve and glory,
With the support of success and aid.