1. It is passion that makes me bear its burden,
Leading me astray as if I had not experienced its like before,

2. A desire that demands a journey every day
On the back of a young camel complaining of the heaviness of its load,

3. It pulls me roughly by the bridle as if
Fearing that I would slip out and escape its grip,

4. If the flowers distract it, it continues solemnly
Trusting in my flowing tears and my yearning,

5. It races the shadows of ostriches so whenever
They become exhausted it prides itself on outpacing their shadows,

6. My friend, why do I see none but a companion
Who, when he sees my passion, berates me for it?

7. Tomorrow he busies himself blaming me while he himself
Should sympathize with me for sharing my torment and his,

8. If passion does not torment my heart
Then I am not of the company of love and its people,

9. With eyes that have always revealed the blades of their lids
Their streaming saved them on days of sorrow from having to draw swords,

10. A gazelle has become my heart’s home, no longer fixed
Like a tent peg-where can the heart be found but in the dwelling of its likes?

11. It shakes the bow of the slim waist in the battle of amorous play
So I spend the night moaning among sand dunes,

12. Let him continue to show more charm, for I
Have patience for separation's judgment for his sake,

13. How strange! Why do I obsess over him
When sickness prevents me from bearing any of it?

14. I used to discard tears so how do you see me
Clinging to even the slightest memory?

15. Some pitied me, but did not pity me for passion
The morning after intimacy from the overflow of my tears and deeds,

16. When the north wind blows, it finds me
Asking about being reunited with him,

17. As if this distance seems to have, as I see,
Humps so the seeker of the beloved cannot be released from seeking them out,

18. If my heart is not tortured by love,
Then I am not of the caravan of love and its people,

19. A breeze passed by the daughter of the tribe and I asked its gentle blow
But without separation, how some of his messengers?

20. I received it hoping for healing as we used to
When conveying greetings and messengers,

21. But I saw in it nothing but what stirs the passion
In my heart, and that is enough to make his visit impossible,

22. A love that shows me each day proofs
That death lies between my disgrace and dishonor,

23. Before separation he used to procrastinate meeting me
But who can help me in the time of proximity and his view?

24. And who can help bring the houses closer so I can see
The hand of injustice paralyzed by the authority of his justice?

25. The words of one burning with longing, melting with love
Not for the bees' honey but for the honey of his lips,

26. And who can help me with the days of vitality and their goodness
Yearning for the one who made its lofty date palms fruitful?

27. They tasked me with traversing every difficult mountain path
That tries the clan's leader and his retinue,

28. Frightening them with its high plateaus
And terrifying them with the great distance between its dunes,

29. Leaning to the right with braided arms it resents
Being deemed inferior and disparaged for its twisting,

30. When the night flows in the color of its darkness
The eyes of passion show me the traces of its paths,

31. What is passion but what I knew to be in my heart?
Every joy it brought back did not make me forget it,

32. Faithfully remembering-but which people's pacts
Remain with the treachery of time and its termination?

33. I see lightning, flashing, as if
It were my heart, having experienced the trembling of its blades,

34. Whatever is unleashed from the rain cloud, my tears
Embarrass even the clouds' downpour,

35. My tears are still, whenever the clouds are miserly,
Generous to my mind, raining the land with their outpouring,

36. The guide of the traveling party, passion deformed it
Not to mention the weight of the shirt and its own weight,

37. It turned hoping to find in the breeze a cure for the fever
But the breeze did not carry it,

38. It raves deliriously from excessive burning with passion for Hind
And it traces its lineage due to the burning heat of separation to the camel,

39. Patient with the judgment of separation and moving camp,
Grateful for the tradition of intimacy and its termination,

40. Whoever does not know passion all his life succeeds,
And does not walk in the sorrow of love and its plains,

41. And I do not despair of the pain of separation,
That the approaching of the house will do away with its misery,

42. Where are the men of integrity? I composed poetry of valor and jest,
If my poem did not win in the yard of prosody by some part,

43. What is poetry but the novel in its words
Held captive by the subtlety of speech and its smoothness?

44. Were it not for passion or the rank of understanding I would not
Have chosen the talent of serious thought unexpectedly with its gravity,

45. If I do not approve and am not pleased that it
Be seen though the star's place is below its place,

46. What is superiority but one whose poetry
Expresses in every language the elegance of its superiority?

47. So why were they dumbfounded in the face of truth
When I escaped the heat of speech with its class?

48. To them: my thought is the polish of poetry just as
You like the composition of verse for its polish,

49. What is the sword but the man's awesomeness within it
And his greatest fear the moment of its drawing?