1. The affliction of the heart is in its watcher,
And the one who breaks people is their savior.

2. When a beauty turns away, its watchers do not cling to it,
And the purest of hidden thoughts cleanse it.

3. Its outward appearances bear witness to its chastity,
Though its innermost thoughts may be corrupt.

4. A man of dignity is not honored for his virtuous flesh,
If his secrets are debauched.

5. I have a glance that rules over my judgment,
And a barren mouth that sickness dwells inside.

6. The utterance of a mouth, when it is unleashed,
Its pours are not feared.

7. I have passed many years being deceived
By its intimate greeting.

8. It lives protected, its lightning flashes,
Like the flashing of its rain.

9. Its thunder roars within it,
Like the rumbling of its clouds.

10. Submissive over young shoots,
Its whirlwinds bow down before it.

11. The swords unsheathe themselves before it,
Prostrating themselves before it and scraping the ground.

12. Its outpourings give me to drink,
And its sources pour me out.

13. The breadth of its two encampments,
Its cooperation brings near.

14. The tips of its spears,
From their length, forgive.

15. As if the sun glimpses it,
So its brilliance shames the sun.

16. Its light drives the sun’s light from it
In defeated scattering.

17. Neither does the sun’s glance flow gently,
Nor does its bird glide smoothly.

18. Its rays rush forth as flakes of snow,
Its newcomers, like hailstones.

19. Its brocades, like gold dinars, shine
From their placements as anklets.

20. They move about its forgiveness
As its stirrups moved about.

21. And every face veiled by virtue’s mask
Has its wraps humbled.

22. It goes about softly, made great
By its shining sword’s crimes.

23. And it scatters its thrusts as sparks
When its glories are joined together.

24. It is not like a coward who encounters
Refusal, though its sword is warning.

25. Never does it shy from battle,
Though its commands are foolish.

26. Its provisions are not destroyed,
Nor are its encampments battered.

27. Its fingers do not grasp
At wealth, though its troops are preventing.

28. It is not bent over except
To glory, its belt binding.

29. When its name is mentioned,
Its platforms shake and tremble.

30. It is unique among those who seek glory,
Rejected by its clans.

31. The wound of its blade knows
That the spear is its remedy.

32. O lion, replaced by a tribe
That will not confront it.

33. It knows whoever contends with it
That death fractures him.

34. And which lion leads death
To protect it with its roaring?

35. You lead the reins of an army,
You are its first and its last.

36. Your speech splits open the skulls,
Inspiring its risers and fallers.

37. It tears away the lion’s skin
When its cutting edges make it sink.

38. Its legions do not plunder
When they are victorious.

39. O rain that rains harder
When its pouring pours down!

40. O man, the lions fear
When his whirlwinds spin!

41. O necklace that its strongmen
Barter over its sides!

42. O moon, whose light the dawn does not stir
When its woven baskets rise!

43. O sword flash glimpsed
From its sheaths by its caution!

44. O meadow that enlivens however much
The lofty problematic waters it!

45. O sapling that grows its tender branches
Upon its heights!

46. How often has it mocked a foreign woman
Coveting its breakers!

47. It rips the pocket of virtue smoothly
Accompanying it.

48. A night it stayed up late
As if glory caroused with it,

49. Scattering the beams of its gaze
And its blossoming stars.

50. When the birthmark thought falsely
That dawn had appeared.

51. And it traveled about wishing
That the full moon was veiled.

52. In the darkness, it covers with the light
Of its intense red glow.

53. So it is no wonder for it in the night,
If its landmarks go astray.

54. Indeed, it possessed nobility and remained
Forbidding it and commanding it.

55. Generosity, you are its rider,
And sword, you are its brandisher!

56. I have not seen, in this age, a youth
Whose early mornings avoid it.

57. Fate surrounds its onslaught
And its destinies complete it.

58. And in its stead sins are accepted
Whenever its excuses flee.

59. And when my praise goes astray in it
Its great deeds guide it.

60. When the lion’s fangs go missing,
Its claws make it cautious.

61. Of whom was I the poet?
For glory is its poet!

62. Speech lies strewn
Across my mind, its jewels.

63. As for prosody, it is its composer,
And as for prose, it is its scatterer.

64. If you are my pride,
Then who is this I pride myself over?