In the tamarisk groves of an-Naqá is a flock of qaṭá birds…

In the tamarisk groves of an-Naqá is a flock of qaṭá birds over whom Beauty has pitched a tent,
And in the midst of the deserts of Iḍam are camels which graze beside them and gazelles.
O my two friends, stop and beg speech of the relics of an abode which has become ruined after them,
And mourn for the heart of a youth who left it on the day when they departed, and weep and wail.
Perchance it may tell whither they were bound, to the sands of the guarded pasture or to Qubá.
They saddled the camels and I knew not whether ’twas from my heedlessness or because mine eye was dull.
’Twas neither that nor this, but ’twas only a frenzy of love which overwhelmed me.
O thoughts that fled and dispersed in pursuit of them like the bands of Sabá!
I hailed every wind that blows, crying, 'O North wind O South wind! O East wind!
Have ye any knowledge of what I feel? Anguish bath befallen me on account of their departure.'
The East wind gave me its news delivered by the gilt plants which received it from the hill-flowers,
Saying, 'Whosoever is sick of the malady of passion, let him be diverted by the tales of love.'
Then it said, 'O North wind, tell him the like of what I have told him, or something more wonderful.
Then do thou, O South wind, relate the like of what I have related to him or something more sweet.'
The North wind said, 'I have a joy which the North wind shares with the South wind:
Every evil is good in the passion which they inspire, and my torment is sweetened by their approval.'
To what end, therefore, and on what ground and for what cause dost thou complain of the sorrow and sickness?
And when they promise you aught, you see that its lightning gives a false promise of rain.
The Invisible fashioned on the sleeve of the cloud a golden embroidery of the lightning's splendour,
And its tears poured from it upon the middle of its cheek-balls and kindled a fierce flame.
She is a rose that springs up from tears, a narcissus that sheds a marvellous shower.
And when thou wouldst fain gather her, she lets down, to conceal herself, a scorpion-like tress on each side of her temples.
The sun rises when she smiles. O Lord, how bright are these bubbles on her teeth!
Night appears when she lets fall her black, luxuriant, and tangled hair.
The bees compete with one another whenever she spits. O Lord, how sweet is that coolness!
And whenever she bends she shows to us a (fruitful) branch, or when she gazes her looks are drawn swords.
How long wilt thou talk amorously at the sand-hill of Ḥájir, O son of al-‘Arabí, to the coy beauties?
Am not I an Arab? and therefore I love the fair women and am fond of the coy beauties.
I care not whether my passion rises with me or sets, if only she be there.
Whenever I say 'Will ye not?' they say, 'Wilt not thou?' and whenever I say, 'May not I?' they say, 'He refuses.'
And whenever they go to the upland or to the lowland, I cross the desert in haste to search for them.
My heart is the Sámirí of the time: as often as it sees the footprints it seeks the golden one that was turned to gold.
And whenever they rise or set, it goes like Dhu ’l-Qarnayn in quest of the means (of reaching them).
How oft did we cry out in hope of union! How oft did we cry out in fear of parting!
O sons of az-Zawrá, this is a moon that appeared among you and set in me.
By God, it is the source of my grief. How often do I exclaim behind it, 'Alas!'
Woe is me, woe is me for a youth who, whenever a dove warbles, is made to vanish!