1. My devotion to you has burdened me,
And through you my ruin has come to be,

2. That which you are pleased with in my passion,
Is to me the height of nobility,

3. Reproachers blame me in sorrow and grief,
Gaining from me nothing but sadness,

4. How can I ask about your love,
No, not even by verses or scriptures,

5. My people, from the one who sprinkled charm,
Wandering in wonder and conceit,

6. The beauty of descriptions of splendor,
I was confused between beauty and splendor,

7. The full moon that I was encumbered with,
All descriptions fall short of depiction,

8. He is a gazelle, not paying attention,
He is a branch, not bending,

9. How can I turn my heart away from him,
When his love is not turned away from me,

10. He went away composed and collected,
Leave me be, don’t speak pervertedly,

11. His stature in poetry is embraced,
Like the embrace of the lām by the alif,

12. The myrtle branch narrated about him,
What came after relaying what came before,

13. That the branches of the naqā narrated,
About him the softness and bendability,