1. My friend says, as the hostess walks around,
The chewer of bitter colocynth, the sickly eyelids.

2. And drink the evening whose clouds and rain are pure,
Adorned with jewels and necklaces of light.

3. I see the moon outshining the sun in the garb of morn,
This is a sky with rising stars.

4. No doubt the lamps are its shooting stars,
And the censer’s smoke its clouds.