1. O my friend, stop by the hills for a while
And ask those who dwell there,

2. Who has inhabited them after us one day, and who
Their fortunes have changed after us,

3. And who has sipped the wine from its pureness
And tasted the ripe fruits from its wetness,

4. And who has pastured the meadows in the folds of protection
And hunted the wild beasts from its lairs,

5. O valley's expanse that was irrigated with beauty
Which smiles before the darkness with its weeping,

6. And O narcissi of the hillocks that have flourished
From which the butterflies have delighted in its nectar,

7. And O little beds of the heart that were twisted
With the passion of Nu'man, so the narcissi have sipped from its wine,

8. Today I am pouring passion, utterly lovesick
With a burning that will not diminish its heat,

9. My soul has not recalled the days of intimacy
Except my eyelids dry up in resentment,

10. Nor have I smelled the morning breeze from your land
Except the perfume has healed me from its redolence.