1. They said poetry has begun, shouldn't you recite poetry?
I said you must excuse me,

2. His cheek holds signs of beauty, and he who
Sees the signs cannot be dazzled,

3. I copied them down, and they were true to their reader,
So in the margins I have lines for them,

4. But his mouth's harvest came from his mouth's field,
Witnesses sweeter than grape juice, though lightning's fear cannot empower,

5. Or his cheek is a mirror of beauty in which
He who looks sees its lashes,

6. Or it is a sea of life whose ambergris
Is cast upon its beach,

7. White of face, red of cheek, its dark
Stubble has blackened my heart,

8. He who wants to pluck roses from his cheek,
The scorpion of his mole lies in wait for him,

9. Do not deny my aversion for one like him,
For what gazelle is not made to bolt?

10. And remind the branch of my state, perhaps
It will mend my heart after it has broken it,

11. For the branch has inclined at the wind's words
Away from its parent water,

12. O you who have taken the office of judge,
Is this judgment or fate?

13. Your excuse in forgetting us
Is that judgment blinds the eyes.