1. March has come, so rise with us, O companion,
And revive the garden of souls with spring,

2. And gather the boon friends under its banner,
And spread out on its ground the carpets of wind.

3. Take your share of pure wine while it's allowed,
As pure wine is not always readily available,

4. And sit happily in the garden's laughter,
Responding to the rhythm of strings and goblets.

5. Befriend the cupbearers with kindness,
Dazzling like the stars in the morning.

6. They were raised like the guests of kings among them,
Beautified with chivalry and generosity.

7. Let your mornings in the prime of youth be descendants,
Of the noble and the fruits of generosity.

8. However much its involucres burst into laughter,
Filling the place with sparkling and fragrant breath.

9. It boasts, so if you recall its noble origins,
It adorns the branches with the jewel of dawn.

10. Pharaoh hid it for the day of its conquest,
And prepared a vessel for its opener.

11. Among the gatherings it cheers between,
And the veiled women during siestas.

12. It sings to its strings evoking,
It trills to its branches chirping.

13. White veils amidst black gowns
Adorned with buckles and bracelets.

14. They chant melodies in their leaves
Like nuns at the dawn of revelation.

15. They wander between couches and pulpits
In a temple of silky transparency.

16. The king of plants, so every land of his,
Receives him with weddings and joys.

17. His red, yellow and white flags in the vegetation fluttering,
The meadows wore for his arrival horses and ornaments.

18. And kissed his feet the beauties and adorned them,
And frolicked in shelter and wing.

19. The fragrance of narcissus from the crenels of his porches wafts,
Moment by moment from the embrasures of buds.

20. And bow their plumed heads in his glory,
Their tiaras being the fancies of souls.

21. The roses in the bowers of branches blossom,
Facing each other folding to the creator.

22. Distinguishing itself among the flowers with thorns and arms,
Is the proud procession in the gardens.

23. The breeze passed with its pages coming and going,
And mouths passed on blushing cheeks.

24. It stripped the veil of its beauty and splendor by night,
Of what the hands of dawn had woven.

25. Its death warns you and all that passes away,
That life is but a morning and an evening.

26. And the warbling of starlings in their branches,
Is like scattered pearls in the breasts of lances.

27. And sweet, pure jasmine
Like the terrace of the walked promenade.

28. Gleaming through the branches as if it were,
In the clarity of dawns a morning light.

29. And the rose laurel blood on its leaves,
Red script like the ring of a warrior.

30. And as if the sullen violet muttering,
Submitting to fate timidly and rightly.

31. And to the spirit's tenderness and grief,
Like the spirit of poets in solitude.

32. And the cypress revealing from its thick foliage,
Its trunk like a beautiful wild cow.

33. And the palm adorned with belts and scarves,
Like Pharaoh’s daughters who witnessed processions

34. Under shades in a hot day.
And you see the sky like a marble wall,

35. On which masterpieces of panels were inlaid.
The clouds on it like ostrich with fat humps,

36. Some knelt and others circled with wings.
And the sun brighter than a bride who veiled,

37. Her wedding day in a shining mosque.
And the valley’s water seeming like conduits

38. Of mercury or large mirrors.
The sun of day sent it rays,

39. Which were water-lily’s swimming jewelry.
It blooms on the leaves of branches abundance,

40. Like the luster of gems in the mounts of wind.
And canals ran like herons in the villages,

41. Grazing the darkness with cares and sorrows.
The complainers who never knew youthfulness,

42. The criers with shedding tears.
From every breast of ribs a suffering prisoner,

43. And inside it tossing waters.
She cries if accused and laughs when caressed,

44. Like a cub between alertness and comfort.
She is in chains and shackles and her neighbor,

45. A blind man groaning from his heavy burden.
When I recall springtime and its beauty,

46. I recall the era of my youth and its playfulness.
Was it not but a flower like its flowers,

47. Which demise hastened without wings?
It is an epic of Egypt that has no end,

48. From which the hands of writers and explainers tire.
In it from the scrolls, psalms, the bracelet,

49. And the Criterion and the chapters.
And from us and Memphis to Alexander,

50. So the two Caesars, then the Righteous Caliph.
Those eras and civilizations are a treasure,

51. So send your imagination to come with the key.
The horizons of the country and you among its expanse,

52. Adorned with stars and lamps.