1. On the sweet slopes, blowing from the wellspring on the auspicious side,
Is a dwelling whose forefathers are ruins in the wasteland,

2. As if its remnants were those of a right hand,
Which it displays, that traders might make much of it.

3. We stopped by it as the eye shed its setting,
And the goat bleated in its fold in despondency,

4. My companions blame me and let their tears flow,
My friend Hudhaym - but the rain has soaked his mantle.

5. I do not care who blames me for passion,
For in my passion for Salma and her dwellings there is an excuse.

6. Slim of waist, wearing a flimsy robe, purchased,
When she gets up, the waist cannot retain her.

7. She sways with the bending of the branch from the rapture of the zephyr,
Or has the wine from her glances intoxicated the foot?

8. How forgetful she was! She did not forget the farewell, and her words:
"You, sons of the servant of the Sun, will travel tomorrow."

9. Yes, we travel tomorrow, and our tears
Are in your throat or in the necklace and mouth.

10. And we went quickly, and the hearts were yearning,
Wherein grief stayed and patience departed.

11. O turtle-dove of the sidr, for God's sake sing!
My companions will answer you - the sidr is watered.

12. Does he who has built his love-nest rejoice
In a dove that has familiarity, chicks and a nest?

13. It coos to them until it inclines toward them
When the neck or the breast enfolds it.

14. Passion provokes none but the lovesick
When loved ones are remembered - remembrance excites him.

15. On the right dune, by the sweet wellspring,
Is the torment of the slopes from their estrangement.

16. I remembered her while the night let down its shade,
So I shed tears until dawn broke.