1. A guest has come to me from the Turks' abode
A gazelle, unanticipated and unforetold

2. Shaking from his slender figure a spear
Over shifting sands which burden it when bent

3. His eyelids rain perennial sweetness
And his glances seed a blooming meadow

4. As if he were a pearl the diver glimpsed
Just before seizing it in his palm

5. No access to the honey of his lips
Until he sips from Zamzam at nightfall

6. So favor me with tenderness like my faith, and joy -
Your memory is sweet, and my heart is clear in its passion for you