Khat barha kaakul barhe zulfen barhein gesu barhe

The downy line, the curls, the raven tresses all advanced, In Beauty’s court, the darkest of her foes advanced.

My heart still shrinks from our post-quarrel, cold embrace; It’s best that I step forth, and your forgiveness shows, advanced.

At first, my hair and nails were all that seemed to grow; But soon a feral madness in my spirit grows, advanced.

My fiery love, those rivals who provoke you so, They only wish to see our bitter woes advanced.

What use, O healer, if one sorrow you make slow, When in its place a hundred others grow, advanced?

O Zauq, to greet the grief my love on me bestows, Before the wail can rise, the tear already flows, advanced.