1. If the idlers busy themselves with the goblet
Or steal sips amid trash and clamor

2. I place my sleep beneath the shade of a blustering wind
And my wine goblet is a bleached skull

3. The sound of my sword entertaining me, its flash
When the horizon darkens with drawn swords, my firebrand

4. And if the lions of calamity roar and grapple
I separate them, my thrust preceding my breath

5. And whoever says I am dark-skinned to fault me
I will show him through my actions he is the greatest liar

6. So go about securely, O daughter of Malik
And do not incline after hope to despair

7. For if the form of the dove appeared to me
I would meet it with a heart firm and hard as a mountain