1. Longing, yet where are you from me, companion?
Yearning, though the gravesite is far.

2. Yes, it is a soul that longs for the boy,
Alas! The life of the past shall not return.

3. It dwells in misery, and solitude is a friend
To yearning in the barren desert.

4. The object of your gaze has no theater here,
Water, but no roses lead to it.

5. After separation, tears are of no use to echo,
Nay, the fires of lovers have no end.

6. My pallor betrays whom I conceal,
And my eyelids and tongue are languid.

7. Evidence of passion’s illness,
And love’s claim—tears bear witness.

8. My heart is far, I ask the living about it,
And it is gone.

9. Plunder of Indian swords, yet it looks on,
Prey of spears from Khatt, yet it is firm.

10. When the morning breeze speaks of its branches,
Passion has from it a gentle caress and a soft touch.

11. My friend, the day of farewell—did you know
That the slain of songs is a martyr?

12. Tomorrow the white cheeks are white swords,
And the languid black eyelids, black.

13. Restless pacing of the eyelids,
Dragging steps, stirring mantles, swaying bodies.

14. For beauty they have radiance and youth,
While for our sorrow—tears and cheeks.

15. So ask not from me more freshness,
For the salvation of my longing has no increase.

16. Every companion has changed in the ruling of love,
Such are the nights, they have no covenants.

17. After the reproachers, estrangement for the eye,
And for the phantom, after separation, repulsions.

18. Oh my liver! Where is tranquility from passion?
Oh my eye! Where are your tears?

19. The Hijazi lightning keeps me awake
Whenever it flows, while sleepy eyes slumber.

20. It makes the threads of my tears flow with a name
Like the face of Saladin in his generosity.