1. I have an intoxication of passion and rapture,
And a burning of longing and remembrance,

2. And the intoxication of the inspired is wine,
With which embers are kindled in the heart,

3. O my neighbor with agate, greetings,
Your meadows are rain and droplets,

4. Is the hoped-for return an illusion?
Is our happy life transient?

5. The days of the garden of youth were agreeable,
Its branches and the youth's foliage fresh,

6. My companions are gentle and beautiful,
Sweet of build and body graceful,

7. When he appears downcast he inclines,
A supple branch glistening like a full moon,

8. He steals the chaste heart fervently,
Bewitching with his eyelids and magic,

9. He smiles with a bright distractedness,
His teeth honey and wine,

10. His mouth protects him from glances like swords,
As if his mouth were their sheath,

11. He makes excuses above his cheeks,
Establishing for lovers an excuse,

12. With misfortunes his cheeks were embroidered,
Surpassing carnelian in redness,

13. His cheek and down are beautiful,
Green emerald and yellow amber,

14. And the reproacher in his passion shows,
Advice and some blame unjustly,

15. Saying that passion is disgrace,
And the disgraced is not pleased, the free,

16. I said: you are wrong that humiliation,
In love is honor and pride for us,

17. O you who saw the likes of a gazelle in him
That made the lion dread him,

18. Or the like of Abdel Majeed, noble,
Refined in nature, with a bright face,

19. There bloomed in him qualities,
That tell of the stars in the sky,

20. O full moon on the horizon of highness,
How long will you be veiled from the eye?

21. I called upon you in a longing,
That has no patience for separation,

22. We shared love and affection,
And our life was joy and good news,

23. When we would exchange drafts of prose,
And convey those drafts into poetry,

24. Yet the nights separated us,
If turns of fate are treacherous,

25. So we reaped fruits of company,
That came and did not last,

26. O you absent from me in contentment,
After you I have not found what gives pleasure,

27. Your return is a holiday for us, joyous,
The eye of hopes in it finds peace.