1. O camel-driver, do not hurry them on; stop awhile.

    For I am lame, yet I set out in their wake.

  2. Halt the mounts, and let me breathe the scent of their reins—

    by God, by longing and its searing torment, O camel-driver!

  3. My soul desires it, but my leg will not aid me;

    so who will show me compassion and lend me help?

  4. What can the consummate craftsman do with a task

    when his tools already foretell its ruin?

  5. Turn aside: on the valley’s right-hand side stand their tents.

    How splendid, O valley, is all that you contain!

  6. You have gathered a people who are my soul—my very soul—

    and they are the dark heart of the inmost folds of my livers.

  7. May love yield no good if I do not die of grief

    at Ḥājir, or Salʿ, or Ajyād.

Sol 5.6