1. A doe has bowed to a doe though her face was turned to my doe,
And both have bent their necks to my doe.

2. All this is but a slave to the slave of my doe!
A glance is magic and the eyelids a barrier,

3. And her teeth are strips of paper outdoing my pages.
Like captives dyed with their blood,

4. Traced with the gems of my pearl debris.
The morning breeze wounds the parks of her cheek,

5. So it has torn the strips of my pages.
The night is darker than her hair's cascades,

6. And the dawn of dawn has swum from my glances.
Wondrous that a thing has comprised two opposites in,

7. A strange knot whose origin is my flashes.
Three tresses have appeared in her night,

8. Wondrous the agreeable night with my selves.
The trinkets called to the tresses from the sky,

9. So they drew near responding like my gazelles.
The moon of her mouth turned into unrelenting,

10. Lightning, who would kiss the cool lightning of my drink?
She mixed the wine of her mouth with amiability,

11. Towards the gardens, joined by my heavens.
And the arrows of a glancing eye along with her temples’ scorpions -

12. Who could endure her union and salvation?