1. My love and night - in you there is no limit
And the good neighborhood is like the dawn for which I have no habit

2. If your love is deadly to lovers
Then why do you want estrangement and rejection?

3. It is enough for your people the glances, shyness, and firmness
For one who appreciates Indian swords, nobility, and spearheads

4. Your consent is a nectar whose echo is resonant
When did the nectar of the passionate quench thirst?

5. Your bashful glances, your protected cheek
With passion, confession does not necessitate punishment

6. She is cultured, not deviant with blaming her firmness
And she is quenched, yet not with rose-tinted blood

7. When she gestures, the branch shows its jewels
And when she glances, my heart - for her - has a scabbard

8. I plead to her sickly eyelids with my blood
But they refuse except to spill blood and cheeks

9. It makes lawful my heart, her firm chest and tenderness
And it prevents it, a tenderness without imprinting the chest

10. She is the sun, shade casts in her proximity
And she becomes inaccessible when distance conceals her

11. She is stingy and generous, so wishes and hopes
And distant and close, so misguidance and righteousness

12. She came to meet everything and its like
Caravans of darkness from the horizon are blackened

13. So my eyelids and hers, my passion and her neck
And my heart and her earrings and my tears and beads

14. Indeed, the anklet, the heart, and darkness were silent
So her lips, jewelry, and cheeks fell asleep

15. Greetings to Nejd and the dweller of its shade
Even if only the lead of passion reached Nejd

16. If the fire of sorrow is extinguished after slumber
Then at dawn after death, it has for it a wick

17. If my soul promised me the wish of meeting her
Despair from her refused that a promise be fulfilled for her

18. And it refused to heal the sickness of her breeze
For it has nothing but infatuation and passion

19. It tells the stories of the sand dune and its expanse
And before the dune, there is wasteland, bleakness, and calmness

20. Patience has passed away like blinking from its gazelles
And for passion, like sickness, in my eternity, eternity