1. How many are the slain, their blood unavenged,
How many the shackled as hostages, when desire embraces them,

2. How many with eyes brimming with tears other than their own
When the white camels march towards the stoning place like blood.

3. Dragging the trains of their wide skirts,
With buttocks swaying and plump thighs.

4. Charmers who steal the heart of the forbearing,
Oh, the longings and the beauty of the unveiling!

5. A palace whose corners they cast with their palms
For three weeks counted on fingers.

6. Never did I see a spectacle like the stoning ritual,
Nor nights of pilgrimage that try lovers so.