1. The memory of a past love excites me
As the full moon excites the thoughts of night travellers

2. I wish we had never met or experienced such separation
When my moon cries, the garden moans

3. With a yearning that exceeds all patience
May God preserve the days now gone

4. For after them we have nothing left but memories
Times of intimacy that passed with pleasure

5. And days of joy that seemed to be my life
I spend nights with a heart that loves to remember them

6. With passion and longing kindled in embers
My friend wandered to dwellings and encampments

7. While I told my beloved of my capture in chains
Her cheeks denied our gazes, leaving no heart without her magic

8. A shining white, her brow lights the darkness when the lamps go out
As if the Pleiades circle her neck with a bejewelled necklace

9. Hiding in shyness from the shining smile of a full moon
When she laughs, her face takes the shape of Suhail rising in the sky

10. In her sweet mouth is a cup of wine, not pure wine
When she sways, showing her charms, she intoxicates without drinking

11. I fell in love with her, and when she captured my heart and senses, she turned to separation
She rose to leave and her buttocks swayed

12. And she stepped away, the smooth brown parting
She saw me and said, "Who do I see?" I said, "A passionate lover, slain by your neck and waist."

13. I complained of separation and enmity, but she was silent as if I complained to stone
Magic flowed from her eyelids as if they were the tales of Abduallah of wondrous pen

14. He is the hidden pearl whose traits point to him
As clouds point to rain

15. Through him is revealed an eloquent smile Like the rose garden's smile at the falling drops
When he created pens and trimmed their tips

16. The scrolls shyly said, "I will not flow"
And if he gathered paper to write upon it You would think it a lovely brow adorned with hair

17. His virtue was revealed when the Most High granted him
His beautiful compositions like necklaces on a throat

18. The beautiful one tells his writing, "Sweet on parchment is your hand Like a beauty mark upon my breast."
So many an Indian pen appeared in his fingers

19. Rivaling the smooth gliding Indian pen
His calligraphy reveals rare masterpieces, More magical than sorcery

20. Is it not amazing that he shows us gems and pearls
In the inkwell, from his ink?

21. If he extends a paper and composes a letter
He draws the robes of concealment over the lines

22. His book's eloquent phrases are like necklaces Whose clarity need no commentary
Of refined nature and eloquent address He indicates what is in his thoughts

23. How often has paper worn out from a letter Of his, zahra blossoms of virgin white
The Turks acknowledge his superiority saying

24. His work is a gift exceeding flowers
The book was always an exemplar in the past But now it is the star of the age

25. O book, turn towards him and you will find A sweet, pure spring - and how many springs flow!