1. I used to be patient sometimes, yet passion agitated me,
With oars doubled, the heavier side of the scales inclined,

2. Gentle ladies knew not what the people of barren, waterless desert suffer,
Nor followed the loads of fortune’s vicissitudes,

3. No lovesick man wandered with them at night,
Wretched, nor did they hear the sound of musical instruments,

4. When they rode in silk and brocade upon them,
Together like undefiled, high-bred mares,

5. To an empty playground reserved for them they came,
Instead of loved ones, honorable, virtuous ladies.

6. They vied in intimate discourse, as though
They vied in wafting gentle airs.

7. And they said to Layla , “Talk to us,” yet hardly
Did she speak in the softest of voices,

8. Ships with the north wind every evening
When its breezes blow to striped, Yemeni ships,

9. Daughters of luxury, whom life and wealth adorned,
Sway when they stand, like intertwined branches.

10. Make clear, my friend, do you see any twisting branches
Resembling the bending stems of the date palm,

11. Bowing down until the family comes to her,
As the morn decks her out in yellow robes,

12. When she sails by, she glides over the surface of the river,
Appearing to cleave it like ships with prows cleaving waves,

13. The sailor struggles to steer her straight,
And men’s hands on oars drive her on.

14. To you, son of the best of men, I conveyed my wish,
On a howdah which careers were appointed to carry.