Down those soft pink cheeks do trickle
Drops of sweat like sweet rose-water,
Have perhaps carnations swollen
On those lips of yours, like rose buds?

You from lofty spheres descended
Like a houri to this garden,
In the shadow of your fairness
From the ground have sprung up flowers.

And your sleepy, drooping eyelids
With a thousand words do whisper,
No one e'er will understand them
Without passion for your spirit.

When I glimpsed you in your beauty
With your golden locks, I marvelled,
Fell in love there in a twinkling,
As if from the grave reviving.

I was born a second time there
Of my tender, loving mother,
Where the sun and moon are rising
'Midst the tombstones and the darkness.

From the northlands one fine morning
Did you proffer songs and music,
Oh, you precious gift from Allah,
Wait for me, your faithful lover.

With your radiance and ardour
And the burning of your glances,
I am baffled and bewildered,
Like a candle melt and vanish.

Winter's passed and spring has blossomed
And your grace has turned to beauty,
Oh Naibi, how you stammer
Now that Ali stands before you.