Though, by God, since I parted from them, my life has not been good, nor my time pure. But I am a lover, preserving my longing, as if I were not longing at all. And within my guts, a fire burns; if its embers were to show, the two fawns could not bear it. I weep with my eyes, my soul, for their separation, and I wish the eyes would not feel it. I have a doctrine in my love for them, and I show it, while the doctrines of lovers are in the open. What harm is it to me if my passion is true, even if death is in concealment? How beautiful is the killing by the branches of the beloved, and how sweet are the sorrows with the gazelles. They said, "Do you love, and love always clothes a young man in the garments of humiliation and disgrace?" I answered them, "If this were true, I would choose my humiliation in it for a long time." And humiliation for lovers is not a disgrace, but the very essence of disgrace for the meanings. I yearn for one who has attained perfection, whose cheapness belittles the art of the palm tree. And I lean towards his sister's cheek, where the anemones have bloomed. And my eyes are always restless, disturbed, in the darkness of your captivating eyes. My mother, and I am between dark hair and the shining of his face, thus are the two worlds. And for a long time I spent with him, and the breeze of Egypt perfumed the sleeves. A time, by Egypt, for which I would sacrifice myself, a true and undeniable bond. If my eyes were to compare the overflowing of its Nile, it would not suffice for my lips. Or if my heart were to narrate the seas of its knowledge, it would rejoice in the palpitations I complain of. And how many times has the sun of the Hashemites shone, and stirred the universes with its rays. And the fragrance of their knowledge spread to all people, and their impact reached everywhere. And their faces, Egypt is a garden, and they are its desired fruit for the seeker. They have likened her to a bride, and from her, the bride's joy of the universes has appeared.