1. The dew gently wafted, and the breeze softly blew,
The birds chirped in their various tongues,

2. The meadows were fragrant, as though
In each flower hid a perfumer.

3. A blossom sways on the bough, a bird
Trills by the brook, and the stream merrily bubbles,

4. Primroses breathe long breaths,
While violets' lives are short.

5. The tall palms, like pillar’d cloisters fair,
Their plumes in clusters trembling in the air,

6. Their anklets of pearl in girdles they bind,
But hide them from gazes of mortals blind.

7. Swaying at times in the winds that blow,
At others still and calm in their flow;

8. As if decrepit age o'er them stole,
Or mysteries stirred in their soul.

9. You’d think that fire in their fronds had crept,
And scorch’d them, while they in silence wept.

10. Now leaning aside with the gales that stir,
Now still once again without demur.

11. As if old age with them wanton did play,
Making them sway and bend in its way.

12. Whene’er you behold the fairest garden
With streams ‘twixt trees and plants running,

13. Where bulbul trills by refreshing springs,
And partridge calls with flapping wings,

14. The soil all musk, and silver every rill,
Choice pearls the drops that the leaves distil,

15. Drink then of Spring, for it is the time
When sins are pardoned, erase each crime!

16. Know too, that man has no endless day,
For others shall come when he’s passed away.

17. Though time makes my tresses hoary turn,
And my cheeks fade, their blooms forlorn;

18. Still a grace in me remains secure,
Fear and awe, to make foes demure.

19. Wisdom sought me in its holy robes,
Humbling itself for my crude globes.

20. To friends, affection at their wish I show,
To foes, when foul, o’erbearing in blow.

21. My steeds caparisoned stand in wait,
My lances thirsty are to sate,

22. My blades keep sharp and ready guard,
When helmet wearing warriors charge.

23. My pen, when I but make it stir,
Sates minds with thoughts, boiling infer.

24. From it both missiles and armies rebound,
Tongues and lips flinch at its sound.

25. A singing lark, when o’er a page it flies,
The strings in awe at its trills arise.

26. When up the steps of rhetoric it strode,
Eagles and hawks its rule acknowledged.