1. O my critic, be brief, for how much do you suffer
In my pleasure you aspire, O uncouth one

2. Alas! I will not desist from one who brings me joy
The lover, though blamed, does not complain

3. My passion brings me glory, though
His love but toys with my heart

4. I'm of the valiant Turks, large of eyes,
Curly-haired, honey-lipped, prim-nosed

5. His face shines like the moon then glows
A scorpion lurks on his cheek and temple

6. On his steed a snake winds round his branch
Crawling atop the crupper as he rides

7. His smile hints at pearls or camphor
His gap-toothed mouth, a new moon

8. His brow makes his bow redundant
His glance, an undeflected arrow

9. His height makes his lance more piercing
His gaze, a slashing sword

10. In Babylon, Harut by his breath
Marvels magicians with his eyelids

11. As if he, the zephyr in his palm
The rising sun opposed by a planet