1. He departed from the valley of Arrakah lovesick,
And spent the night ill, unable to express or reveal.

2. Ill, while the returning women hover over him
With sympathy, though it will not avail.

3. They think some affliction has struck his heart,
Yet he suffers nothing but the scorching of passion.

4. He has a malady that, unless healed
By God, would have cast down the soul of its bearer.

5. How strange the days, that I am obsessed
With one who cares not for my tears or ardors!

6. I pass the night lovesick in Sarandib, awake,
Bearing alone the torment my passion has kindled.

7. I turn my eyes, and see no friend’s face
That stirs at my voice or softens at my plaints.

8. And what has pained me is a lightning bolt that flashed
And was gone, like sparks scattered from flint.

9. Its glare tears apart the veils of darkness
And lays bare what lies between gorge and tract.

10. I lay sleepless for it while the meteors wandered,
Bewildered, and the horizons seethed with cold.

11. I remain as if between the fangs of a serpent
Made of plaited withes, or in a lion’s den.

12. I turn over, and the stars seem
Scattered gems of ruby glowing in a necklace.

13. I have no friend but the sword, its strap
Slung over my shoulder in the desolate waste.

14. When my hand stirs it for battle, it glares
Toward me, snarling, from its sheath.

15. It shines more brightly than my heart against the foe,
Yet is slower to assuage my passion than a blade.

16. I say to it, as tears flood its burnished surface
Like the drip of carnelian beads from a necklace:

17. “Once you aided me against Fate,
Why do I see you powerless today?”

18. It answered: “If you cannot endure the woeful state
Of passion, and you are the most stouthearted of men, I cannot be stout.

19. I am but a piece of hardened iron
Beaten upon by the hammer and chisel.

20. Were I not weak in strength
I would hang myself by a thread or store myself in a sheath.

21. Find someone other than me to aid you against passion
And leave me be, for the cure of passion is to indulge it.

22. My friend, this passion will surely kill me,
So turn to moderation, if you fear my loss.”

23. In that valley where passion took root
Lies my cure from my sickness and relief from my torment.

24. Places of merry dalliance, where often I wandered
After worldly pleasures, in a life of ease.

25. When the soul recalls them, it sheds tears of sorrow
Along with weeping, so it cannot check its flow.

26. O dwelling where I squandered my youth
Between Arrakah and Rend, in its valleys,

27. The dawn breeze stole forth toward you at daybreak,
Greeted by its breath, and your dawn shone with praise.

28. The horizon clothed you in a necklace of cloud,
Hands tinted like lightning’s grip, thunderous.

29. I cannot forget a night we spent there,
While the world tempted with the bounty it bestows.

30. When life was fresh, and passion new,
And the valley’s waters were limpid and loving.

31. A refuge for the moon through its veil,
And the branch through the knot in its band.

32. She teased me with her eyes and said to the soil:
“Look at this lanky fellow following me on purpose!”

33. Not knowing the mole and love cannot be hidden—
What I conceal is not what I divulge.

34. My gazelle, reason itself went astray as a guide
And erred, while jest in you turned serious.

35. Do not ask me for more passion, gently,
For this torment is the last I can bear.

36. And your command. So fear God and glory!
For if you said “Arise and climb a lofty peak,

37. And when you reach the top, hurl yourself into the abyss,”
I would cast myself in willingly, so that afterward

38. You might say: “God keep the pact you made!”
A soul that does not betray its friend

39. And courts peril only with purposeful intent,
I am bold in the face of horror and havoc

40. With my life, and in valor with one’s life lies destruction.
I speak truly when the right way is obscured

41. And the people’s minds turn from the path of propriety.
If I make peace, the Quraysh mock me,

42. And if I talk, the Banu Waleed mock me from the cradle.
Every smooth ancient ode is strange to me

43. When recited, save those that tell of Banu Sa’d.
Gentler to the ears than the melody of the lute,

44. And pleasanter to the soul than the season of roses,
Effacing with its sleeves’ trails the compositions

45. Of those before and after me, and humbling them.
Thus am I, saying and then doing—

46. My actions and those of others may elucidate or obscure.