1. With this, grief is not eased,
How can a wound be healed by what caused it?

2. They blamed my misguidance, but were not rightly guided,
They deemed my illness ugly, but did not become well.

3. O solace of my heart, when you said to it
Perhaps from the intoxication of love you will recover.

4. How much have I seen you admonish it,
Yet advice does not turn it from its course.

5. Rather, it harbors a burning,
Its fire kindled in my heart.

6. Whenever allurement was adorned for it,
It said "I think ugliness is beautiful."

7. And O my killer through estrangement, enough -
Your purpose that you pursue has wearied me.

8. Yesterday your love was jest, yet O dread -
What flowed from that jest!

9. An intimate - had I winked at him,
He would have perished in its dust.

10. Upon the darkness of night it leaves a touch,
Upon the saddlecloth a stroke of its right hand.

11. The sheen of its faultless velvet is darker -
Ashamed of nothing but the hue of its wings.

12. As though its body was molded from the gloom of night
And from its face the dawn shone clear.

13. Thoroughbred steeds fall short of its merit
As praise falls short of your bounty.

14. It is as though I were al-Buhturi reciting to him,
While he in his magnificent glory is triumphant.

15. For every glory trails his glory,
And every towering mountain is dwarfed by his height.

16. I was in conflict with fate before, and in his days
Peace was made between us.

17. So submit - for you are the black of fate's dice
And the white of sublime days.