1. Your cheeks, are they a smile that beamed bright,
Or is your mouth a meadow that breathed fragrant?

2. It swayed to me like the basil gently stirred,
And it sang the praises of the generous souls sublime.

3. A speech wherein the light flows through its veins,
And dew forms beneath the passionate sighs.

4. On days of bliss, it adorns the cheeks’ blush,
And from it stamps are minted for the gallant knights.

5. Its darkness reveals the gloom, like flashes
Of lightning that gleamed behind the dusky night.

6. And I, to it, am thirsty with fervent crave,
I sent it to moisten like a cloud that rained,

7. And thrill me sometimes like a zealous chanter.
In the ink’s gloom, it flashes like a coin newly-minted,

8. And roams through the lines of linguistic mastery.
If I fail to thank you while foreign is my abode,

9. Then no lavish liver provided me soothing fragrances,
Nor did the horizons ever portend to me with it,

10. Glory, nor did the dunes ever allure me.