1. With your sword, sharpened with kohl,
And your rose, plucked from the bramble,

2. And your cup, kissed when sipped,
Were you created for me, or I for you?

3. I yearn for your mention, though the blamer blames,
Your love suffices me - the love of the blamer.

4. Were it not for you, I'd not delight a blamer,
Oh, that the one blaming me were my ally,

5. So the blame from him would not be for
One straight of body, corrupt of soul,

6. Joyous while hearts are heedless,
Safe while hearts are fearful.

7. If my body appeared to his waist, it would complain
Of the darkness of that to this.