1. O doves of the sidr tree, the sidr is good for you,
Sing, for youth is enlivened by mention.

2. I wept for a dove that was absent from you, though
My weeping is for Layla, since separation from her grew long.

3. Sorceress of the eyes, you own me; whenever
A month passes, I say after it “a month.”

4. My excuses to you for union or death beside it
When I spend the night thirsty, no rainfall comes down.

5. When you draw your cloak and my eyelids shine,
A staff appears beneath which are curvy dunes.

6. And I like the course the scarf takes when it flows
Around your waist – would that the waist might be obtained!

7. Come, place your mouth’s fruit on me, make it soften;
On my liver, which embers excite, let it kindle.

8. Otherwise, give me some talk, for your talk
Is magic no other magic equals.

9. When you touch the lute, though the lute is dry,
Green leaves stir on its edges.

10. You are like the flexible branch of wishām when it bends,
With softness in its cove and fragrance on its crest.

11. You’ve gone off with my heart, beyond the women of ‘Āmir;
I have patience with them, but with you I’ve no patience.

12. My friends said, “You drink wine alone,”
So I said, “By her saliva that kills me, it’s wine.”

13. If you are a gazelle in glance and cheek,
Then Abū al-Tamāḥ in his generosity is a sea.