1. Alas! The ruins of Layla's abode are now watered though her lovely singers are gone and her time has passed.
The pleasures in her courtyards are no more, and so her mourners weep and are downcast.

2. My promise to her was once of the redness of her beauty, the greenness of her pastures, and the whiteness of her smile.
At times, with the playing of the flute, her braids would sway,

3. And at others, with the strumming of the lute, her gap-toothed grin would appear.
The boughs of her sand-dunes would sip the torrent's juice and sway drunkenly while her birds sang.