1. No harm from the intercession of the aloof with his distance,
If the passionate justifies the alluring with his promise,

2. Or if he heals him with a visit after determination,
So that the one who acted with distance towards his servant may see,

3. A gazelle from the Turks, with an empty mind,
From a state filled with anguish in his heart,

4. Quenched from the water of youth when he walks,
The branches bend to the bending of his stature,

5. I would not complain of the harshness of his heart,
If softness of his cheek restored it,

6. I cry while coquetry makes him laugh from tenderness,
The coldness of his love’s healing in its coldness,

7. And the prince of beauty is my watcher while my heart from his supporters,
Is forever mine and his soldiers,

8. Knowing that a glance from him is strict,
Wrath, and not wary of where his limit falls,

9. If he visited me I would remove the seal of his approval,
I did not want a rose or his roses,

10. And I held back my palm in the expanse of his reach,
In his depths, and held it back from his help,

11. They said he was ill, so I said perhaps,
It is in his eyelid or his waist or his promise,

12. O you who deprived me of the sweetness of sleep, yet
I grieve over missing the imagination like missing him,

13. If not for waiting for the ghost to knock in the darkness,
My teardrops would not flow questioning his return.