1. Who will let the one whose grave is far draw near
A gazelle is the dawn in its rising from its thickets

2. Like a branch in its movements and stature
Like a gazelle in its glances and startled leaps

3. In the garden it has beauties and likenesses
In its myrtle, blossom, and basils

4. Its basil from its glance, its blossom
From its cheek, and myrtle the growth of its excuse

5. I clung to it and its shining teeth play with prohibition
Like the toying of the water-bearer with his cup of perfume

6. Oh its beauty, if only its youth took pity
And its grace if only it had visitors

7. It has made remoteness and withdrawal a way
So the star is closer than the approach to its grave

8. It winked at me so its visions scattered
In its cheek from its lashes

9. When it shed the blood of ardent love intentionally
The mole of the cheek darkened from its burdens

10. And when I say maybe, if only, and perhaps
My words are not news to love from its tales

11. The cheek drowns in a spring of its tears
The heart prays in the hell of its passion

12. Strange is how an opposite can befriend its opposite
This one with its tears and that with its fire