1. Sing my poem
Between the blossoms of wishes and the sweet melody

2. I have picked its meanings from gardens
And inspired its passion from the feats of the hunter

3. And its rhymes are like the scent of flowers
And the blooming roses’ fragrance among the roses

4. And an overflowing of its endless goodness
And a meeting swirling with light, enriching

5. The beauties of rhetoric with generosity’s flow
“Come on my nightingale”, for how many friends

6. Of elders and fine youth have you brought together
O tenderness of passion and cordial affection

7. Sing from your familiar poem
Adorn your wealthy home with passion, with glory,

8. With the epics of the ancestors
How I called upon the poem from a teardrop of humiliation

9. But it turned to a distant place
How I looked in the paths of disgrace

10. And around me a thousand steps astray
With remnants of caravans torn apart

11. By the biting wind and impetuous squalls
Crowding the roads, ruins

12. And throwing them into obscured, blocked valleys
The flowers of rhyme slipped from my hands

13. And the tune distanced itself in the expanse of the desert
And the meanings were scattered in the sky

14. And disappeared behind its blocked horizon
The poem’s pride suns away from disgrace

15. And distances itself from passion and denial
In it is honor, it is the literature of Islam

16. The planting of faith, the watcher of pacts
O pillar of the poem, raised by truth

17. So it rises to the highest place of immortality
It does not lower itself to passion

18. Nor bow down to the biting of shackles
The nobility of speech is from the guidance of truth

19. And the magic of rhetoric is in Oneness
A literature that is quenched at it

20. From a hadith, from the Glorious Book
Its fragrant wood is so desired

21. That every garden wished for its fresh fragrance
It spreads precious gems over the lands

22. Rich with strung pearls
So the inspired poet came

23. And formed it into bracelets and necklaces
The swaying beauties wished for

24. An ornament around a delicate wrist
It is the rustling of dew on the sleek leaf

25. Shaking in a new spring
It is the pulsation of strings with a beautiful melody

26. To the joy and happiness of Eid
It is the blooming youth of the devout and a longing

27. Of chastity, and beauty in cool calmness
It is in the universe a sign that glory

28. Has cast on it wondrous hymns
O tenderness of the poem, o touch of Islam

29. Solace of the sad, refuge of the outcast
O spaciousness of safety, wiping

30. Humiliation from eyelids and tears from cheeks
O sanctuary that the weak flees to

31. Where he finds might from lions
O song of the poor in the path of truth

32. And on his loyal, guided road
O blessing of man carrying from it

33. A torch that pierced through dark nights
Passion fluttered and chose from it

34. Islam’s literature, the moonlike warbling
And love granted in it the greatest verse

35. And enriched the holiness of chanting
“There is no god but He”

36. Is the highest passion and sweetest poem
Return, O seasons, our majesty’s splendor

37. And prostrate and enjoy this bowing
I am a slave of God—how great is love

38. The most enriching with strong conviction
O melodies, o poem of the nights

39. Return the tune or repeat my poem
With love I have delight in the days’ mouth

40. And a melody of desired passion
O gift of Islam, o breath of faith

41. O unique pearl of gifts
A literature that blazed in nights with glory

42. Its fragrance purified with blood of martyrs
How many times did it urge steeds in battlefields

43. And odes sang of its leap, of its hunter
So arise, O masterpieces of poetry, this is an arena

44. Chirp in it, and repeat my poem
You are at the peak of rhetoric, an abundant

45. Gift of guidance and a sea of generosity
O abodes of Islam, gardens raised

46. Between a terrifying and envious enemy
Unleash your volcanoes, pour lava

47. Shake the foundations, raze them
And storm the rage of hurricanes, and rain

48. On it bombs and iron
I am not the inspired poet if my poetry

49. Is not bombs of fuel
And if a sword is sheathed

50. Or the battlefield emptied of passions’ iron
My poem will go on the road

51. Like dew that trembled in a new spring
O man of letters of Islam, where are the palaces

52. That snatched away beds and pillows?
Awoken by lightning bolts of a call

53. Snatching the remnants of brooding
Melodies rushed them into battle

54. Seething with the flames of chanting
Brandishing them over Palestine’s expanse—thundering

55. On its witnessed day
And over Kabul—the lands roared

56. With fervor and rumbled with armies
The literature of the lost is night and wine

57. Between a shattered cup or a grape vine
When the poem slumbers in the haze of drunkenness

58. To a swaying waist and nodding bosom
A literature that failed into debauchery and slept

59. Between its arms lay the eyelids of the slaves
They steal away behind the magic of a false motto

60. Or decorations and false promises
Name whatever example you wish, for this is

61. The literature of the misguided, wretched ingrate
It will perish with time, while the literature

62. Of truth remains a flame in existence