1. I encircle your waist, and the flowing scarf,
My hands are your arrows, you have struck down my warriors,

2. And I have seen, what I have not seen before,
The slain weeping for love of the killer,

3. The glance of your eyelids shoots its arrow, hitting my heart,
And I say, may the hand of the archer be paralyzed,

4. And behind the veil of my chest and senses,
Is a yearning growing toward a teasing beloved,

5. And I have been drunk, though your hand, oh morning breeze,
Knew nothing of farewells, except embracing shadows,

6. Load the camels with gifts, if only they would,
Soften over the slight, delicate waist,

7. And she was stingy, so I drew near in love,
And it is wretchedness, that I am indebted to the miser,

8. I long for her saliva, and I dread her wrath,
So I rave for the sweet, fearing the honey gatherer,

9. She of the settlement, staying at the hillside,
You remain among the embers and springs,

10. And you asked about my heart, though you had stolen it,
From me, with the question of the oblivious knower,

11. If the clouds would answer me, I would ask them,
For rains from them that they sent forth and dwellings,

12. Be gentle with a heart wandering like your specter,
And a body drawn like your slender form,

13. You have violated my patience, and not taken the opportunity,
You have spilled my blood, and seized no spoils,

14. You have punished me, following the slanderers,
And unjustly condemned me by the words of the blamer,

15. They described you, though they did wrong by you, and maligned,
So they spoke truly of your love, and falsely,

16. You have traveled the overland journey of the sun, grieving that,
Tents of love and litter poles departed from it,

17. How can I stay without a loyal companion,
Pretense of affection, and no steadfast beloved,

18. Spare me your shyness, spreading stories of my love,
Between the winding paths and deserts,

19. And the sword is slain by the resolve of its sharpness,
And deficiency has become perfect through perfection.