1. I swore by the disheveled hair of a gazelle they clung to
The curtains of one towering with lowered banners leaning

2. They met upon it raging yet they refused
To seize those slender sand grouse around its fringes

3. Nor did they sip from a rock with their lips
Nor did they touch any part of it with their palms

4. Nor did they hamstring she-camels roaming its valleys
With the efforts they exerted, worthless and feeble

5. And the hands of the riding camels when they halted one evening
At Arafat after traversing the encampments

6. My love for you, O gazelle, is in the innermost thicket
Though the watcher begrudges the gentle access

7. The nights did not create it, yet it is
Refreshing throughout the prolonged extent

8. And I admire in you the conversation, its insertion
Being correct even when you told us false tales

9. As if, as the words competed with me, a picker
Was plucking some immature dates at dawn