1. On the cheek of the one I love is the finest embroidery.

    My gaze sins upon it, and my heart leaps.

  2. That design—glory be to its embroiderer!—never

    Have a draper's hands found its like.

  3. From the bow of his eyebrow he shot when he gazed,

    And struck me with the arrows of a proud, mocking one.

  4. His promise of union is rainless lightning,

    And his threat of abandonment comes true.

  5. So it is as though his eyebrow, from which he shot,

    Were a bow shaped by the hand of the warrior Ghazi.

  6. He is the one given precedence at the forefront,

    And everyone else is pushed to the rear.

  7. Thus his bows, with their pointed tips, have resembled

    The rainbow in their outstanding excellence.

  8. There is no bow but what his right hand has fashioned;

    How far apart are the sword and the walking stick!

  9. For he alone is the true master of the craft,

    And everyone else struts in garments of disgrace.

  10. Vigilant, he is the master, never displaced

    From his glory by any peer or equal.

  11. With the bow's draw, his arrows gallop into chests,

    Like a steed roused by the spur.

  12. His noble traits are exalted; he is no

    Slanderer—far be it from him!—nor a fault-finder.

  13. He amassed wealth and spent all he had on his petitioners,

    While others are lords of storehouses and shame.

  14. Wealth is only that with which you gain lofty honor,

    Be it newly acquired, inherited, or buried treasure.

  15. And he is the one who punished the craftsmen with

    Dismay when he produced a marvel.

  16. He has remained vigilant in pursuing lofty honor,

    So he is like a hawk upon a glove.

  17. For a night traveler's drink, O my God, reward him

    With the finest reward, for You are the finest rewarder.

  18. Indeed, chivalry takes pride in him amid

    Battle, with a cleaving sword like fate.

  19. And the cup in his right hand resembles a boat

    Amid the waves of a surging, heaving sea.

Sol 6.1