1. Does youth return by God's will?
Is there still hope of white-cheeked virgins after it?

2. Gray hair has convinced me it surrenders,
Just as youth has assured me it bids farewell.

3. It uncovered a youth I fumbled in its darkness
Like the rising of a full moon from the horizon.

4. And it destroyed the beauty of my hair after its coil,
Flocks ravaged it, so it withered and thinned.

5. I say to my shamed wrapped waist in a cloak
Yearning departs it, weeping and grieving.

6. My secrets look to it coyly,
But nothing reveals secrets like such coy glances.

7. When a moan escapes from its ribs,
A heart cracks or ribs break.

8. Perhaps the heart’s cracking brings some solace
Of passion, as there is no longer room for passion.

9. How difficult when you denied me longing after
Its sickness from the virility of youth started to heal!

10. You examined a longing that, without you, would have withered
And awakened a longing that, without you, would have slept.

11. My wings had been burdened with sorrow,
So I returned with a breast armored with patience.

12. Passion has pastures in the sleeves of my heart,
And patience has a deathbed in the sleeves of my passion.

13. A love like the secret of flint—only its striker reveals it,
It would not have glowed without the strike of flint.

14. My eyes are a marsh for tears,
My back burdened with the seals of misfortunes.

15. The days chase what I want from me
And cheat the promise of safety, so I begrudgingly accept.

16. Don’t the days know I have immunity—
The Commander of the Faithful’s grant protects me!

17. An immunity as though, if it disobeyed the rule of graveyards,
Its neighbor would have a means of escape.

18. An immunity in which there is pasture and freedom for the weak,
As well as watering and satiation for the mighty.

19.
The fairest guide of foreheads, as though

20. Fresh-faced youth flowed over his cheeks.
There is life for one who attains it while content,

21. And death for one overwhelmed without acceptance.
Wealth is paltry while he is honored,

22. And praise is lofty in his eyes though he loses wealth.
The nature imprinted on praising covers him

23. If the papering of men’s characters change.
He has a scent, if his unkempt hair is perfumed, it lingers,

24. And another when he rages—his disheveled hair shakes.
The brother of war: his purposeful opinion,

25. When views conflict, does not waver.
He dangles from the clouds’ necks as though

26. He sees and hears what is beyond them.
The hidden path of his certain steps

27. To glory is straightforward and unveiled.
His might and valor are formidable—

28. The necks of foes and scattered tribes fear him.
The sun, east and west, lowers its cheek to the ground

29. In awe of him, so dim is the horizon.
The brilliant, worldly stars point to his lofty grace,

30. And the scent of his fine traits lingers.
And ambition throws him to the farthest peaks of grandeur,

31. For it, beyond the Milky Way’s valley, has a foothold.
When glory passes his hearing, it startles him

32. As though a coward bolted up, terrified of sleep.
Generosity, valor, protection, the blossoms of ideals and ornate rhetoric share him

33. When he loosely waves speech’s hems, hearts and ears compete for them.
And if the back of his hand touches the heathens’ eyes,

34. They set, as the eyeballs of monsters burst.
Of the people some took to the ideals and soared,

35. And sought the plateaus of honor till they branched out.
Those are the lofty, and the commoners—dusty,

36. Parched by drought—are date palms, and today is barer!
Their shoulders give pasture to the honorable,

37. And their swords make the disgraced shiver.
For them the always-blossoming trees are planted in hillocks

38. And bear the fruits of ideals and grow lush.
Their branches adorned with skulls, their fruit

39. Arms and the trunks—refuge, forearms, and cubits.
Well-honed, covering eyes as though

40. Dazzling suns or flaming meteors fashioned them.
Thirsty for the blood in veins—and it

41. Barely contains the limit of what they drink.
You’d think necklaces of pearls shower

42. Their chests: a fragmented, scattered gemmed necklace.
And bright eyes like gazelles’—they know

43. Where passion, fervor, and secrets gather.
Seekers, though they limp

44. Moaning from the pain that hurts them.
Birds’ tents feasting on their prey—

45. They pick out hearts’ seeds and peck.
Repelled by an ugly hag approaching, intruding,

46. Befriended by a pretty one giving and refusing.
And devoted on the day of raiding—a mighty tribe

47. Protects them from harm or a coat of mail.
Delicate, barely perceptible assets

48. Except for the resolve their guardians hear.
Tents sheltering horses the winds name

49. While breezes nickname their four legs.
When they parade, lightning is silent,

50. When racing, flashes spew from them.
They kick up clouds of dust till water in vessels grows turbid

51. And birds flying in the sky are splattered.
The regime’s pillars are feared for war,

52. Upheld for the kingdom, and followed for truth.
And opinion suffices instead of them when deemed accurate,

53. When fate dictates, and when limits are known.
I send to you Shihab al-Din:* cooling, illuminated

54. By a tongue, capped by a finger for your glory,
Surpassing the bitters of time in gentleness

55. If the branding iron ever cools.
You remain eternal throughout the ages, attaining

56. What you anticipate of life and sublimity.
*Referring to Saladin