1. No, by the Prophet Muhammad and the overflowing one,

    the splendid husband of the purified, chaste one,

  2. and by the sanctity of the People of the Cloak, the best of humankind,

    my heart has not been with me since I parted from my beloveds.

  3. And whenever I remember them—and I shall never forget them—

    my ribs are bent over the fires they cause.

  4. What refuge have I, when separation steals my last breath,

    except in prolonged weeping?

  5. My eyes—their tears have streamed down as springs,

    at parting from them; so I am drowned in tears.

  6. I entrusted my heart to you the morning I bade you farewell.

    Alas for the loss of the captive heart entrusted to you!

  7. And I hoped for faithfulness from you, though there is

    no hope of grasping the Pleiades and Suha.

  8. When I hoped for your love's purity, I came to

    hope for a mirage from the shimmering mirage.

  9. Your pledge in my keeping—even if you have neglected

    mine—is not neglected, by the sanctity of my love for you.

  10. You slept, heedless of the ardent lover tormented by love,

    and struck him with painful separation.

  11. How often I lay at night, hoping a dream-vision would visit my bed!

    How can a dream-vision visit one who does not sleep?

  12. O rider, if you happen to pass that way, convey

    from me to Damascus the greeting of one who has found no rest.

  13. And single out my dear companions there for a greeting

    sweet as the wafting fragrance of ambergris.

  14. It grew fair for them after I left, and their dwelling grew pleasant,

    while in their stead I gained a harsh, cramped abode.

  15. The eyes of the envious cooled with joy at our parting,

    and so often had they sneezed through a mutilated nose.

  16. I have never ceased to tend their affection and safeguard it,

    all this, while my name has been debased and left uncared for.

  17. Their forms are in my sight, and their image

    in my mind, and their words in my hearing.

  18. Behold, my patience is spent and my resourcefulness has waned;

    the bow of consolation has no draw left in it.

Sol 6.1