1. It's the abode whose dweller has passed away
The morning Leila left and her pact was no more

2. Time has withered the joy of her company
Can the nights restore what was its delight before?

3. Gone is the gaiety since the day
Her lovely face adorned this place no more

4. The nights would visit me in fine figure
My heart would yearn when I saw her, nothing more

5. She moaned, so I let fly an arrow, heart-piercing
To her heart it winged, mine could endure no more

6. Still would each heavy cloud water her land
Thundering loudly through the highest clouds it tore

7. Lightning flashed in her rooms
Urging me on to her ruins and what they bore

8. After her, the pain of longing denied me
Since the day her most precious self withdrew

9. How could she sleep when gloom descends
Having eschewed rest which wards it off no more?

10. She charges me with herding the stars a task
Beyond guidance, when their setting is unsure

11. Between us stand impassable sands
In their hands, vast empty deserts obscure the score

12. When the stars incline over the mountain tops
And the fires of love subside, in them no roar

13. The branches of the thorn-trees it tosses
Bending them over, then raising them high once more

14. I found for her, in the heat of my burning pain
A coolness it kindles, its cruelty and nothing more

15. Only her breeze gladdens the heart
Just as only its stillness weighs on the soul sore

16. Can one have companionship but that of nights
Lit by her lamps, the incense begins to pour?

17. After the loss of my friend, is it possible
To hear my reproacher, his rebuke I'll ignore?

18. He takes joy in blaming while cooing like a dove
As though the wind had softly flown, her to me it bore

19. They supposed the reproach made my agony grow less
But blame in love only makes it thrive more and more

20. Her lightnings trouble me, as though they were
Flames kindled when clouds drew their garb tight once more

21. So my heart knows no peace, its fluttering endless
No hope remains of quenching its flames, no cure in store

22. My tears flow free when night falls, my pillow
My streaming tears could be taken, with the clouds they soar

23. How I hid them fearing the spy and his quest
Though first they surged, I checked them and they flowed no more

24. Until the one who lived in the sandy waste was gone
And I, though far from her abode, remained its faithful squire

25. I stood weeping, for love had made clear
My wish to possess it, though distant its fire

26. Had it not been for love, my eyes would not thus
Have roamed, in every moment shared, the sands they watched for

27. No life unless her beauties appear
Her locks in the hills tossed by the wind sweep ashore

28. No water unless from my eyes heavy clouds
No fire unless my burning ribs its fuel store

29. No rapture unless before my rapture they rose
When dawn broke from those dwellings, their passion it bore

30. I swore by the disheveled locks above every lovely lady
Adorning herself, though Time will her locks deplore

31. They find relief from the cold's burden for their steeds
When its harshness makes the bees languid, no more to soar

32. Plunging with them into the flood-water's deep
Whenever their gathered firewood is put to the flame's roar

33. Over each rider's forearm lies a wing-span
With it they are flung headlong, though nobly they tore

34. Tracking them with sacks in the far waste, her cheek
An ally of travels that bear no relief in their store

35. For you are most coveted in souls
When your promises of victory their longings stoke and stir

36. If you were in a distant land, guarded
By your heroes and lions, nothing could hinder

37. If they heard in the black of night a rumor
Of swords from India unsheathed, nothing could deter

38. I would knock at your thick-walled citadel, unable to stop
Even threats of death from meeting with you, no more

39. With each gentle-moving Indian scimitar
The hour of death sounds, but its keenness holds no lore

40. You alone inspire poetry of subtle charm
Pleasing you in its rhyme and unmatched mete, nothing more

41. A unique string of pearls, which when a bard chants
Most rapturously stirs up love, its melody the finger adore

42. What are verses if you were the judge?
All who recited would be your slaves, nothing more