O' God !
I wander all day and pine through time,
And seek some comfort in my rhyme.
The noblest of rhymes overflow with love,
The sweetest line - the musical and pure -
Are written down for the heart as a cure.
Men turn as they pay to the holy place;
To Laila's home I turn my face.
Twice people say their prayers at dawn;
When I think of her'
I know not the times I repeat my own,
Laila hid behind a crowd;
Her lip betrayed a smile,
Like the break of morn,
Or the sun as it shone.
Her sweet breath filled the air,
Made perfumed roses seem less fair.
A shiver ran through my form
From head to toe
As though my eye had met her own.
All men are mortal but love never dies:
Laila and I loved with young eyes:
Our love story which is now alive,
To our successors will continue to survive.
Generations of men will die and go past,
But our true love will forever last.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem