1. O tender branches of lote-tree, if only I
Were fair I’d call the breast’s branches tender

2. O you of hardened heart, is there no pity
That softens your slender waist’s rigour?

3. Why is my heart not awake like your eyes
From cares and the intoxications of passion?

4. Had God wished to show it mercy
He'd not have painted the lids with sorcery

5. My heart is filled with a sigh compressed
My eyes brim with tears that freely flow

6. The signs of David are in my hands
If my heart is not like Abu Bakr's heart