1. Is a lovesick man's morrow near?

    For the night's blackness has rebelled,

  2. and beneath its dust-cloud have rallied

    white ones in the encampment, lending it strength.

  3. There is war within me; for its kindler

    I have a longing I never cease to voice.

  4. Is there one to charm away love's grinding cry?

    Is there a healer to tend him?

  5. How long will sorrow assail him,

    its renewal wearing away his entrails?

  6. And how long will pain wrestle with him,

    making him rise and sit whenever it wills?

  7. In the palace is a gazelle, held in awe

    by the gazelles of the sands, who envy him.

  8. My palm was left empty of him, and he departed,

    though his hand was filled with what came from me.

  9. How often I fashioned gold into a snare for him,

    and spent the night arranging it.

  10. And I consult my longing—rather, my propriety—

    shall I desist, or hunt him down?

  11. My lord, I pray you be shielded from a blaze

    whose kindler shows no mercy to any heart.

  12. Save, by your life, the last spark of my life

    that love for you has been threatening all night.

  13. Love has become plain to anyone with two eyes,

    and this yearning confirms it.

  14. Shawqi, excel in verse, and speak—

    I believe you are its peerless master.

Sol 6.1