Turn the camels aside towards the stony tract of Thahmad

Turn the camels aside towards the stony tract of Thahmad, where are the tender branches and the humid meadow,
Where the lightnings show to thee their flashes, where the clouds pass at eve and morn,
And lift thy voice at dawn to invoke the bright-faced damsels and the fair lissome virgins,
Who murder with their black eyes and bend their supple necks.
Among them is she who loves and assails with glances like arrows and Indian swords every frenzied heart that loves the fair.
She takes with a hand soft and delicate, like pure silk, anointed with nadd and shredded musk.
When she looks, she gazes with the deep eye of a young gazelle; to her eye belongs the blackness of antimony.
Her eyes are adorned with languishment and killing magic, her sides are girt with amazement and incomparable beauty.
A slender one, she loves not that which I love and she does not fulfil her threats with sincerity.
She let down her plaited lock as a black serpent, that she might frighten with it those who were following her.
By God, I fear not death; my only fear is that I shall die and shall not see her to-morrow.