1. I reproach you, though you’ve been forbidden, yet undeterred am I,
Reprimands prolonged, but steadfast remain, I won’t be turned awry.

2. I implore you, for you have bewitched me, and made my passions rise,
There’s no pleasure left, but what you rouse, no joy outside your eyes.

3. I’ll obey while you show kindness, though if you spurn me, I’ll defy,
Reproach me now, though years have passed, and youthful games gone by,

4. Had I fulfilled your every whim, I’d have lost my sanity.
Those busybodies cast their eyes on me with wicked glee,

5. But from ogling them, I’ve abstained, no urge in me they rouse.
And they say he lingered there, that he might catch her house,

6. What’s it to them, what I have seen? Their words I’ll counter-vow.
Naught I’ve asked of her but grace, and kept every promise now,

7. When we speak of her in drink, though discourse may multiply,
I’ll down a glass and weep the next, they’ll leave all sated, while

8. I remain bereft of joy, though disguised my bitter cry.
It’s no secret to boon friends, that for her I sing and sigh,

9. Though with wishes I lament, and words of would that vie,
A maiden who enchants us both, her passion binding nigh,

10. As Sama’a* once enraptured me, but left me lorn and dry.
Her face adorned with noble traits, her clan and house the same,

11. When I bring my lips to hers, though, sickness racks me without fail.
For her I wove a poem with the water of my love,

12. That she may don it and partake the drink that I’ve proffered in pail.
And in my letter she conveyed, “I shelter you, though if

13. I espy a breach, at once I’ll leave.” To this I will not fail.
You know my mother’s madness well, and when I donned my cloak

14. My brothers’ eyes reproached me, whether I walked or rode.
For love of you I cowered before them, just as Sukayt** cowers,

15. When evening came and she was told I had fallen ill.
Her slave girl sang, beating her tambour, “He came to me, entreating,

16. But if mother spurns, we shall not turn.” My will she will not kill.
She sang, “Why, mother, would you forbid what I hold dear?

17. Can you deny me what I love? For it has made me ill.
Is your heart made of stone or iron? None knows what I feel,

18. And if you loved, you would mourn me, when death makes corpses chill.”
I call him whom I love, but do not come when he implores,

19. If I could, when he called, I’d fly to him with utmost will.
*Sama’a is the name of an ancient Arab poetess who was known for her passionate love poems.

20. **Sukayt refers to a type of horse known for its gentle and submissive nature.