1. How many a meadow with dusk yet to come,
To Saint Saeed’s monastery or Saint Michael’s haven’t gone.

2. A night like resurrection day in breadth and length,
You see its stars like fire in the oil lamps’ light.

3.
I saw the stars, with it, like rolling eyes,

4. On legs like a heavily pregnant camel’s, dark and plump.
You see in its face your face, so gentle of expression.

5. The baskets came, with a jug and kerchief.

6. She poured it like an anklet of twisted ruby,
Unceasingly, unseen but in my imaginings.

7. Like mechanical figurines, whose meaning in attempts to grasp
Escapes you, elusive as a phantom.

8. It shows you dawn in a veil of darkness,
Folded back. We drank it in the presence of houri-like faces,

9. Who, if they wished, would all speak alike,
Articulate, with their trinkets and ornaments.