1. Breasts like the pomegranates of bliss
Seduce me with them the sisters of Rym

2. Their stars have lulled my sweet sleep
And they have not robbed me, by God the Bountiful

3. Before purpose, a spacious chest
That contains the heart of a generous, noble soul

4. Yearning, O Saad, for a heart
With burning coals over embers

5. Your breasts have scorched my skin and patience
Why then do you not burn my worries with them?

6. I see the poets attribute every intense
Magic to the sickly gaze

7. And consider breasts to have lesser magic
When they are the pillar of mighty sorcery

8. They have attributed the immense to the feeble
And the feeble to the immense

9. Is there not among the people a wise judge
We take as Luqman the Wise?

10. He would say magic lies in the breast
Where red wine flows from carnelian