1. This is the bride of flowers, sprinkled with dew,
Adorned with pearls, she smiled and called out happily.

2. When her veil was lifted from her head,
Modesty toyed with her rosy cheeks.

3. The violet opened a tipsy, alluring eye,
The bulbul winked at her, then rose and warbled.

4. The doves' leaves preened with their necklaces,
When they saw the crown adorning the hoopoe.

5. The flowers reached the king of blossoms and bowed down before him,
The anemone glared with reddened eyes,

6. Showing its heart blackened with anger.
The pond spread its water until

7. The breeze's chill rippled its surface.
It saw the plants at the edges of its ground

8. As a soft, smooth mattress, and reclined upon them.
My friend, marvel at clothes

9. Woven by one whose hand never touched thread.
The dye of every garment fades,

10. But the dye of this one is renewed when it wears out.
Why does this river beat its breast

11. Galloping and roaring like a racing camel?
Is it jealous of Prince Muhammad's hand,

12. Which many envied for favoring Muhammad?
He who killed the enemy with his cunning

13. And melted the frozen hearts of the envious.
His Creator granted him what He granted no other,

14. So if the envious are jealous, their envy is futile.
He granted him an old man's wisdom in a youth's body,

15. We deemed him a perfect, timeless sage.
He overlooked people's faults and united

16. Their virtues in his being, peerless and unmatched.
Strange! His words make us thirstier when we hear them,

17. Yet we acknowledge his speech is as sweet as dew.
We taste its sweetness and admit it is an ocean,

18. We spoke truly, he is the ocean of munificence.
He still scatters his pearls capriciously,

19. And strings them into a necklace when he pleases.
He forbids drunkenness to his boon companion,

20. Yet permits it if one versifies with artistry.
The eloquent scribe whose hand holds a pen

21. That makes manifest verses that bear witness.
All blackness leads to its darkness’ misguidance,

22. Except the blackness of his ink, which shows the way.
O you whose tongue gives delegations pearls,

23. While your palms give those seeking bounty rutile.
A poem came to you and I chose it,

24. Selecting a string of answers like matched pearls.
Are you pleased with my sincere affection,

25. A servant, when I am pleased with you as master?
I still lean upon you speaking,

26. As if I am the news and you the first to utter.