1. O you who thirst for union, though once its spring,
Would you give me a draught, if I live and thirst again?

2. You clothed me in illness’ garb, abundantly cast,
As darkness, and furnished from sadness’ quilt, my bed.

3. I saw passion from a kohl-lined eyelid,
Bewitched through your cheek, with beauty lined.

4. When the mole showed, darkened with its redness,
I see accord between the Romans and Abyssinians.

5. It inclined to the cheek, then bent, curving,
Like a scorpion, recoiling in fear of one who would strike it.

6. If you wished, you would visit, and the star’s path aligned,
While the horizon struts in a robe of dust.

7. Like a wild animal, when the lids contract, the taste of seeing
Grows cold, and the night cries “O man of Quraysh!”

8. So if my soul turns, it is no wonder,
For my death from those lids was feared.