1. For whom are the ruins with the two palm trunks,
Watered from the rainclouds with pouring rain,

2. An abode whose relics time has erased,
So they have become mere dreamlike visions to me,

3. And I have no patience to collect them all.
So why should I grieve over a land now devoid of its people,

4. When even the wind there no longer blows cool and pleasant.
I stood there in tears, weeping for myself and

5. From my tears a stream poured forth on it.
I asked about its inhabitants, and the companion of passion,

6. As if questioning the remnants of the dwellings.
The homelands used to entice you with their intimacy,

7. When visiting them and when far away they beckoned.
But no visitor stayed long in this land,

8. And the time for union there yielded no ease.
The rain irrigated from it every meadow, though

9. Many days and ages had passed over it.
It watered a land whose soil brings forth sweet basil,

10. Though the hills and meadows now torment me.
Darkened is all that the guide could not find

11. A way through, except the rugged hill trails.
The gentle breath from it, the scent of nearness,

12. Whether far or near, always delights and consoles you.
In the wine is a brimming intoxication whose taste

13. Turns to sweetness in the mouth and joy in the eyes.
In the states of his distance and his presence,

14. I am perplexed, so tell me in both, how can I scheme?
And a troop that contends with adversities in the wilds,

15. With slumber, and wakefulness, and writhing.
Ships of night, no ships of desires,

16. Raised up at times, lowered down at others.
Stretching out their necks toward the mirage's gleam,

17. Deceived by the image of water formed there.
Alas, can the mirage's freshness sate the thirsty?

18. Since the blowing wind has left it as blue glass.
And when I saw the flock with the wild doe among them,

19. And in the flock a beauty with dark moles.
I glanced at the rose of her cheek,

20. And it imprinted itself on the cheek's dark mole.
Oh, a glance that brought anguish to the heart,

21. While the trails of those encampments have been erased!
And I weep over the troop and the ruins

22. With a yearning in my mind for the dwellings and houses.
When we inclined toward it, though it was in ruins,

23. Our hopes were cut off and our dreams faded.
Yearning bound us there, until we could barely speak,

24. With no comfort, as if chained and fettered!
And when the rain vied with it on its plains,

25. My tears vied in pouring forth and flooding.
So desire decreed that my tears

26. Would be torrents while the clouds' showers were rivers.
I was ashamed before the clouds, for when they burst open,

27. My eyelids and tears did not change.
When the fever departed through the blowing breeze,

28. Dawn tormented you while the night brought ease.
Its blowing inclined the branches of the boughs,

29. As the bending of the pliant spears inclines.
Greet the fever for me, and whoever is possessed

30. By passion, even if they are blamed and accused.
For they are the locus of passions, time does not

31. Turn them away, as the slanderers supposed.
Strangely, parting grieves me with its turns,

32. While the people dwell inside my heart!
Would that for all people in their loving passions,

33. When mentioned to me, were but slanderers and wrongdoers!
The memory of distance and union does not dwell long,

34. Except it exposes me, or brings me torment.
I fear distance even in union, though

35. My limbs may be severed by parting.
By my secret, by the fire of passion, the morning breeze

36. Has not kindled across time a blaze and ember like mine!
And it is for poetry to recount its subtleties about me,

37. In order to describe the does and chant about the fawns.
They claimed that the madness of love is an error,