1. The moon turned a sun set at rest,
Upon my regrets like the stars of dawn,

2. And the cup wherein is sparkling wine,
Flowing with the rhythm of salt's adorn.

3. As if the cupbearer were a gazelle who grazed
The light of meadows in the meadow's bourn,

4. Naught avails the lover but a staff
In his love, he fared and made great forlorn.

5. He works such magic with his glances and neck,
As white pearls and reddish spears of corn,

6. His languorous gaze made drunken,
By his intoxication, what ails, forlorn!

7. How can he sober be, while from his cup
His draft he blends, delight on delight down borne?

8. Lo, the Turks in their battle and peace
Ne’er ceased to struggle and great feats perform.

9. Whoso flees the fiery heat of their war,
Save me will say, no respite will I mourn.

10. My desire and their desire as one,
So count me not with any who from them turn.

11. Strung pearls suffice me for beauty,
Not concealed white ones that hands adorn.

12. Nor do I speak corruption or defect,
So take me seriously, not in jest or scorn.

13. Corruption and flaw are naught to me,
Save praising one less than fully virtuous born.

14. He who, if he favours, enriches, or if
He hopes, aspires to highest heights adorned.

15. When his mouth smiled, divulging a name,
I grew certain of prosperity, a great boon!

16. His auspicious bird, since it began to fly,
Has not flown, but with wings of fortune.

17. Who can compete, when he plunges into
The sea of lineage or well-measured praise?

18. It quivers for praise with the quiver
Of reeds on a day of clamour and delight.

19. All the masters of verse compared to his merit,
Are as comets in the light of morn.

20. He pours from the overflowing goblet, and contains
The utmost of glory in the highest glass.

21. He prevailed with glory and generosity alike,
And a man's generosity is naught but gain.

22. He bestows wealth and station spontaneously,
Both conditions permitted equally to obtain.

23. For the perfect king, his prudent thought
Brings triumph in attack or in decline.

24. O defender of the faith, you left your foes
Headless, by the breasts on the battle plain.

25. Their blood a torrent, reaching the morn,
Till it lay stretched on the loftiest terrain.

26. Good fortune did not budge from his kingdom,
Standing, not to be removed or made to wane.

27. No sandgrouse chirped in a scrubland,
And her sister answered her from the plain.