1. I wished to meet you when my excuse was present
And I scolded my dream when it became your deterrent

2. And I have nothing but a heart that goes astray and finds guidance
So either passion lies in it or my insights

3. And I know that infatuation and yearning
And the whiteness of aspirations, they are motes in the eyelids

4. But it is a soul that tames its nature
With what it carries of the torment of wounds

5. I lost my heart seeking its guidance now
If only before falling in love it had taken my advice

6. So why are we given baseness in passion
And in perception we are not given the darkness of confusion

7. As if I am a turtle dove picking its light
while incapacity does not taste good to a lion

8. And my obedience despite my resentment
Shows you that one is not capable

9. We observe the harvest and have no knowledge about it
While our selves are seized by fetters

10. And I have not seen anyone more foolish than chaste souls
Who believe the news of promiscuous eyes

11. And whoever's eyelids were veils to his heart
His ears listened to his insides for debauchery

12. If I do not win a promise or glance from you
Then my hearing and sight are of no use to me

13. And I still have an obscurity with the gazelles
That refers me to an unjust judge of love

14. By your life, I have no confusion in my youth
That divides my thoughts between complainer and enjoiner

15. I refused to reproach the reproachers because it is
A petitioner's contention and an excuse for the excuser

16. And how can I forget what preserved my youth
And the image of fantasy spent the night conversing with me

17. Yes, the coldness of despair extinguishes burning
Even if the hearts of the spurned were watered by it

18. And when a sigh of sorrow goes astray
We seek to capture it with our nostrils

19. I make my breaths ascend when they wallow
On the soil perturbed by the winds of thoughts

20. And I remember a day when company was short in duration
As if we met it in the shadow of a bird

21. Whenever the leafy branches sing my drinks are
My tears and my sighs are the yearning of my flowers

22. My friend, this dream has released sorrow
And threaded the ropes of longing between the consciences

23. And there remains in the bowels nothing but some youthfulness
Of patience running in the tears the first drops

24. So good luck to the necks of the courses, perhaps
We obtain wishes in the breasts of the open lands

25. And if there is no hope of attaining the roe
We content ourselves with the artifacts of the circling drawings

26. A horse stand, and a camel litters seat, and a playground and lads and a session of night talk
And the slapping of hands that their ashes were

27. Doves but they are not birds
And how good that coziness is, if only it

28. Would visit my tresses and become my bracelets
If you do not keep the covenant of dwellings

29. Then you are not one who remembers the covenant of lodgers
It was watered by the one whose springs of grace

30. Extend the first drops of pouring rain
The generosity of the chief of the state is herbage, life

31. And the needy's place of prayer, and the traveler's provision
You suffice by seeking sustenance actively

32. According to their claim, with endeavor or fate
The mean ones dance underneath it

33. If someday fenced with a grateful tune
Speak without embarrassment about every wondrous thing

34. From the sea or those amazing hollow pearls
For he who has not tasted the water of life from its direction

35. His fingers have not watered it continuously
And how many crippled nights have met

36. Upon him the meeting of manacles
And the plundered of merit, you see his cloud

37. One day pouring down like the month of sowing seeds
He races ahead with action as if he

38. Sees a promise as art from the consciences' aspirations
So you see him pouring without lightning

39. And you do not see him lightning without pouring
Gifts named by the uncouth as masterpieces

40. And they are stars in the sky of glories
Blamed for spending goods in dew

41. And which merchant in benefactions is at loss
Branches of the lote-trees are wantons

42. Laughers, and the tips of the spears in the throats
With it, the world was adorned for us and turned

43. To us at night with cheerful cheeks
The days learned amiability from it

44. Returning to me time with gathered fragments
The question melts the fat of sustenance with him

45. And does a cluster freeze in a presser’s palm?
He refused to let obstinacy shake his kindness

46. Surely knowing that arrogance is one of the great sins
And there is no shortcoming in his manners except that they

47. Are precious pearls without peers
And people are but like seas, some

48. Barren, and some a source of jewelry
So woe to the feet of the seekers behind him

49. Have they not ceased from him at the first stumbling block?
Every disputant admits to his merit

50. If it is said on the day of gathering, is there any boaster?
The brother of resolve, there is no opportunity

51. In his spheres for a deceiver's shake or a sorcerer’s breath
If his opinions race behind something missed

52. He makes up for an absentee like one present
When you come to him seeking his support

53. You will meet him with bonds
He pursues the middles of matters, avoiding

54. The predicament of hastiness and the failing of falling short
And discord has learned that his abodes

55. When settled in, indeed a good lodging place
They distracted themselves from homelands in plain

56. Compatible with his pasture for resident and visitor
He takes the pens to what the spears cannot reach

57. And prefers the actions of courage over contenders
From the young tribe whose auspiciousness is

58. In their views not the passing stars
Cavaliers of excitement and saying whose mounts are

59. The backs of steeds or the backs of pulpits
The guests think their house is a sanctuary

60. And their time a feast for the great banquets
And they lit the fires only to disgrace

61. The night in case it concealed the traces of a visitor
And those generous and sublime traits have known

62. That they are not barren having given birth to them
O honor of the religion that honors its time

63. And who carried in it precious gifts
He attained the celebrations of victories happily

64. Laughing at the mouths of ambitions stretching wide
Today he is lavish not in a summer suit

65. Nor in winter garb with an idea
His agreeableness and composure almost

66. Show that time is not tyrannical
And when I saw money submissive to you

67. I made its gifts gardens of registers
Because from the praise and gratitude of men

68. You have abundant treasures, splendors, and storehouses