1. O rider, turning left,
Straying from his path, going right,

2. It's a road to Najd, as if
Eyes have crossed it, blown by the northern wind.

3. Greet them for me if you pass by greetings,
Their eyelids have walked its meadows.

4. And say, by a valley’s tamarisk:
The leaves in its twigs murmur.

5. O tamarisk, no pigeon claims
What the fervent, sad one finds.

6. If leaves felt what’s in my heart
The branches would burn beneath them.