1. O cheeks of the fair maidens in their shyness
Blushing crimson, though unbidden, it dyes them

2. We are both expatriates, you from Bejaya
I from Cordoba, though now side by side

3. With brethren we gather, good company all
Their wealth as the dew, though all gone it be

4. A tribe, if you ask whence they hail
To their marks, their lineage, they point for reply

5. Before them should my lips touch yours
No strange deed it would be, nothing to shy from

6. For exiles to meet thus in exile bound
The exile may kiss the exile he's found