1. My beloved, do not blame me for my crescent moons,
And blame not he who blames unjustly, not for me,

2. He has the face of a gazelle when she first appears
At dawn, and the languor of a gazelle's glance,

3. And from beneath the veil, a crescent of Eid
I protect its beauty from the evil eye,

4. My heart was never devoid of love for him a day,
How could it be when his cheeks are so adorned?

5. I swear I do not ask fate about him,
But I do ask about being unable to ask.

6. His love has possessed me though I was free,
And passion made me cheap though I was expensive.

7. It makes white pearls flow from the black eyelids,
So I never cease from that struggle,

8. I who am sick with love for him,
And love of another never occurred to me,

9. His beauties weaken everything,
And are magnets for the hearts of men,

10. He has a delicate, smooth complexion
Like silk that shines to the burnisher.

11. When placed before brocade he displays
Patterns from it, the ideal example.

12. It is as if God gathered for him
All aspects of beauty in one place.

13. You see a bow in his brow, and his
Glances are arrows with sharpened tips.

14. The Turk has a strength, what strength
In his composure at times of strife!

15. He sways with his whip in the dune, slender
And proportional, dignified in his poise.

16. He smiles with brilliant white teeth atop red lips,
A lover of wine cups and rubies' shine.

17. He sees unlawful killing as an obligation,
With his magic speech of the lawful kind.

18. For him my soul is ransom, and everything
Dear to me of family and wealth.

19. His charms have melted me into sickness
With their length and blackness like the nights.

20. He deserted me deceitfully, leaving me
A phantom, denying me even that.

21. So my love is beyond the ultimate love,
But there is no way to union at all.

22. My eyes are streaming, shedding tears,
While my heart burns with separation's fire.

23. The blood of doves is in his cheeks and mole,
His glance calls down torrents of rain.

24. He enchants the brave horsemen,
With wondrous glances of high hopes.

25. My friend, serve me wine pure and direct
Far from water clear and pure.

26. Present it to me, the cup full,
Mix no forbidden with the lawful.

27. It creeps through the bones of the regretful
Like the creeping of mites through fleece.

28. With both your hands bring us the pitcher,
Right and left, repeatedly.

29. But beware of drinking when it intoxicates,
For its pleasure is not cheap.

30. The children of worries, their cure
From the harm of their world is the daughter of councils.