1. He asks her, while the camel litter sways
Will he return from the barren sands one day?

2. If a day should pass when I don't see you
It is death itself, or portents of death, I rue

3. He asks the encampment, whene'er we part
Does it pain him that the trail leads him far?

4. What use is it for him to ask, when the ruins
Yearn for him till they are asking too?

5. He visits the abode of love, though it
Kindles the fires of longing that slay him

6. If the lightning flashes toward her land at night
Patience fails him, though he vowed to brace

7. If a breeze blows from a house where he reveled
It refuses to settle, stirring his craze

8. Isn't it odd that he leaves his friends
When parting's blade proves too strong to fight?

9. When time's promise of nearness seems binding
It tricks him, keeping their union from sight

10. A dove stirs beneath the darkness, fevered
By the glow of embers and songs of delight

11. It approaches him, hoping closeness, yet
Fate obstructs it, though it strains in its flight

12. It rises high on the litter, its coos
Troubling his rest, as the night grows late

13. He weeps for friends lost to the hand of fate
In copious tears that flow without abate

14. The dunes remind him at dusk, as they curve
Sighing from the wind's gentle gait

15. As if parting and exile were created
Just for him, one leaves the other won't wait

16. After their separation, sickness occupies him
More than blame, it distracts and berates

17. His body wastes from passion's excess
Wasting him more, though his brethren hate

18. His tears have watered many a barren plain
And poured on the land where their tents were pitched

19. For in it there's a trace that almost
Wakens his companions when breezes hitch

20. When he passes an abandoned camp, he weeps
For days gone by, tears streaming without stitch

21. How many dawns were serene when he walked there
While the whisperer rose and night wind was still

22. He trudged on though the journey was long
More lively when his camel lifted its tail

23. Weakened by hunger, he tugs the reins
As his rider, a swordblade, bites without fail

24. He has resolves like strokes that adorn
Swords with inscriptions for all details

25. Saplings of his enemies' blood spend the night
When battle calls him, they sprout and prevail

26. Were it not for his courage, they would bloom
When he touches them with hands strong as flail

27. You'd think him the twin of Badr, girded
With blades, prepared for all travails