1. O Arabs alive, my number has dwindled,
Alas! Where are the men and the numbers?

2. None were true in love except my own sickness,
With you, and the firmness and patience died.

3. My pact and the hill of Al-Kathib encircled,
By a circlet from you closely studded.

4. From the water of its roses thirst increases,
For its beauty every comer again comes.

5. From each caster of glances a battle,
With its cheeks and chin of chrysolite.