1. How often I hastened in the depths of love,
And how often the sea of passion engulfed me,

2. And how often my eyelids grew white with promises,
As my desires and arrows of death choked me,

3. And how often the fate cast me far with its arrow,
Yet I do not cease gazing and drawing breath,

4. And how often I stayed up with the breeze of gazelles,
Hunting them while my soul burst forth,

5. And how often I set up the trap of eyelids,
On the lair and den, hoping the phantom gets snatched,

6. Or they stumble on the tail of beauty in
A fire from her night, so my eyelids shut,

7. And how often I approached the youthful sprout to graze on it,
On a meadow, as my eyelids furtively watch,

8. And how often I lurked to hunt the songbirds,
No hunter deterring me, and I have no doubt,

9. And how often I prowled around the neighborhood to ambush them
In every valley, while my heart quaked,

10. And how often I scaled the land of friends,
Seeing none but them, even if by distance I burn,

11. And how often I wavered for the sweetest wishes,
As they avoided us, and how my heart sighs,

12. And how often I climbed battlefields of flirtation,
My passion leaves me no respite, I see no horizon,

13. And how often, when I'm in the darkness of time,
I cease not to remember a smile that dazzles,

14. Behold, the adversities of love have not bequeathed,
To whom it cast tribulations, while love suffocates,

15. Nor have the intervals perceived for us, snatched
Forms from those in the mirror of estrangement piercing through,

16. So excellence is excellence, and I trace
A mark for its sake, while the crescent horizon fades away,

17. I did not know the horizon curves, and it is struck
By love, from the crescent of earth - O horizon!

18. When the celestial sphere accompanies me,
I reckon it as a union blazing,

19. And if the wombs distance themselves from it,
And its limbs become refreshed, and the sweet union severed,

20. The rays of separation still remain in the constraint
Of estrangement, in a form accessible to it,

21. Wondrous is the sublime that sees the universe ignited by its lights,
Yet through union it began to split,

22. And wondrous is the feeble that sees life nearing its breath,
Yet in death, it has no slit,

23. They are the people of Badr, so no blame in their action,
And may knowledge grace you, before the horizon emerged.