1. I do not press wine, but plant grapes,
My swords are enough to justify darkness and old rancor,

2. When it circulates around a sober man,
One day he stumbles intoxicated and sways happily,

3. And remains celebrating in the midst of his joy,
As if the blood of grapes is what he had drunk,

4. Tell this bleeding to persist confidently,
There is no sin upon whoever persistently drinks and strikes,

5. Oh misery for the young man smiling at the lightning of dawn,
Who spent the night sobbing towards the beloved,

6. And in his innermost self is what the inner selves do not tell him,
From a burning passion that blazed into something amazing,

7. I do not deny that opposite meets opposite since
My wings and eyelids gathered water and flame,

8. Those who turned away the matter of the one who turned over
My matter to them, their peace with me became a war, so I fought,

9. They prevented passionate lovemaking, even if
They had prevented it from a scorching heat that fulfilled desire,

10. My cousin’s daughters believed, the day they were separated
From my heart, they took a substitute from me,

11. They went away with him without my body, how did he accompany them?
He cannot stand except if we went together,

12. Oh tribe of Khawla, do not refuse me the meadows,
Hoping for flowers when they are fresh,

13. Even if you veil her from sights, the veil of the sun does not hide when veiled,
How does it harm you if her attachment was led by the excellent youth?

14. If you are stingy with a meager amount which does not suffice you,
You will be exposed by what the Arabs are given,

15. Does the generosity of the Prince not offend you
To a barren desert and a close land with what it engulfs of requests?

16. The champion is severe with the gift, triumphant,
And the desirable establishes the truth, erected,

17. The Imam of religion and life gathered them
After they were disturbed for a long time and became estranged,

18. He assumed the kingship and the sultanate smoothly,
The clothes of his authority he folded gently,

19. He is honored by his fathers over all people,
Whenever pulpits name them as fathers and fathers,

20. Indeed, Yahya ibn Abd al-Wahid ibn Abi
Hafs is brighter in lineage than the sun of dawn,

21. They are three, the stars of the earth who became ten
And mingled in the seven planets of the heavens,

22. Blessed are their determinations over the world,
The party of religion whether intense or lenient,

23. Their only one became in every ordeal
He who repels what corrupts the oneness of God,

24. A king who fluttered to the height of his glory,
And gained the ancient holiness and the progeny,

25. The planets would plunge if they plunge to his highness
And kiss the palm that does not tire from fatigue,

26. Stabbing, striking, and giving at every instant,
And no share for those who disdain hardships,

27. So from his generosity, when the pouring rain insisted,
Or from his sharpness, when the unsheathed sword slashed,

28. No fearful hesitant approached his door,
Except he came near to the safety of God and drew closer,

29.
He unveiled the swords when he spent the night armored,

30. Divesting of caution, and unsheathing the spears of war,
And he mixed white with courage when dew dripped,

31. With patience he exhausted supplies and emptied the leather bags,
The towering mountains and sea are forever

32. From his enviers when he embraced the throne and loved,
It is for this that this one raged, anxious and restless,

33. While the other settled, with prolonged worries and depressed,
Then their perfection in him became clear,

34. To the point that they were pleased with the length of their anger,
Blessed is he whose brightness did not shine like the dawn

35. Except his darkness dispersed like clouds' clusters,
He leaves tree branches by the river which were made

36. To transform the smell of cypresses, his cavalry attacks,
The tied reins of war make him feel safe in the army,

37. And awe keeps the flags separate from intertwining,
Praise did not shake him except its obtainer dripped

38. Like a fallen wet trunk when the rain moved it,
Kings stop short of his limit,

39. For the highest harvest comes when the steed trots,
And if they pretended a claim to his resemblance,

40. Who are they to have smooth faces that resemble gold?
These months are the months of God, one,

41. And singularity among them is an eternal attribute, Rajab,
My Master, serenity always poured on Your humble slave,

42. So he hurried to give thanks and fulfill what is due,
I fear - since I hurried it generously -

43. When I delay praise, that it becomes usury,
I rushed to thank, professing that my hand

44. Sculpted the money and text from Your hands,
I did not refrain from a verse or rhyme

45. Since I learned knowledge, literature, and manners from You.