1. Is it lightning in the clouds or the fragrance of meadows
Flapping its wings over it is the bird of foreboding

2. Or did passion dishevel its cloak, so the hands
Of youth tore from it the raiment of dignity

3. Or did the hand of love make it taste at dawn
A draft, so it remained for it prostrate and intoxicated

4. And the wafting breeze of an open garden
Disclosed what secrets it contained

5. When the cloaks inhaled its subtle fragrance
The embers of fire curled up in the heart

6. Where the boughs sway tipsily in its dunes
Agitated by the warbling of the birds

7. The hands of youth toyed with them so they swayed
As if they had drunk from a cup of poison

8. And the garlands of flowers were crowned
With necklaces of the pearls of rain

9. So the air was scented with the musk of clouds
And the earth adorned with carpet of flowers

10. The singers sway languidly in its expanses
Swaying coquettishly like the swaying of a charmer

11. By each murderess who slew with the sword of her charm
Deliberately, though her victim had no blood-revenge

12. Like the moon in the remoteness of attainment, and in grace
Like a gazelle, in kohl, and overflowing charm

13. And a swaying, which the morning breeze disheveled,
Toying with the cloaks of the trees

14. And the glitter of what the goblets of his beauty poured
Melted my heart with the most potent wine

15. I gave him respite to the sun but it inclined
Towards a flask growing in the light of day

16. And the night prides itself with its necklaces and crescent moon
Among necklaces and bracelets