1. His glance wounds my passion,
And his hand is dyed with its blood.

2. At times a serpent bites me;
There, its tail entwines it.

3. Below me a veil drinks
The dew of primroses is its drink.

4. I asked Barema about her gazelle,
And if its fawn strayed from the herd.

5. And if it traversed the valley of Ghadha
Sporting with its doe mates.

6. So it startled them with its skip
And stirred their breaths with its musk.

7. Or did it, like itself, yearn
For one whose description matched it?

8. It has a languid, charming glance
Whose weakness dissolves my will.

9. If its beauty stirred our love,
Its grace outshone our souls.

10. With beauty its rear approaches,
Sporting with its tufted tail.

11. The steeds gathered around it fantasy-like,
So its flight was swift.

12. Its back inclined to the gallop
And its mane inclined to its palm.

13. Its stature straighter than its spear,
And its blade sharper than its point.

14. There, each prostrate sees
That its existence ends in death.

15. If only its secret cured my heart,
As its forelock cured its brow!

16. And if its love calmed my heart,
Sporting with its ear tips!

17. Is there a way on a night visit
Its love would compassionately turn?

18. That it may bend its branch,
And allow the plucking of its rose?

19. I had been chaste in modesty,
Pleased that I was its chastity.