You, O the Moon, affording the view, from the lofty heights, of your heaven. Are you a beautiful bride overlooking from the palace's window, and these scattered stars girdling you as necklaces of pearls? Or a colossal king mounting his throne, and luminiferous are Houris¹ and young youths? Or a stone coruscating brilliantly, and this horizon, circumambient around you, a ring of lights? Or a limpid mirror, and this aureole as a circle framing you, or a spring, streaming and gushing? These beams rivulets flowing? Or a blazing oven, and these stars scintillations glowing?

O, the light Moon,
You are the one who is throwing his illumination upon the earth: upon its lowlands and its highlands, upon its plains and its mountains, upon its grassland and its wasteland. Then could you rise in my self to brighten its darkness up, and disperse what tenebrified it: the clouds of solicitude, and of melancholy?

O, the light Moon,
Truly, there are similitude and correspondence betwixt me and you: you are solitary in your haven, and I am forlorn in my land. Furthermore, both of us, silent, imperturbable, depressed and dejected, running his course; you, not interlacing with someone, and no one interlacing with you. At the darkness of the night, both of us appears to the other, not only to keep pace with him but also to whisper with him. The beholder does observe me, assuming that I am exuberant, because s/he is dazzled by the smile, imprinted on my lips, and the cheerfulness in my face. Yet, if what is in my self was divulged to him/her, and s/he saw the anxieties and the grievances accumulated over it, s/he would be in the flood of tears: sad tear after sad tear. And when the beholder beholds you, s/he thinks that you are filled with exult and jubilation, since s/he is beguiled by the pulchritude of your face and the refulgence of your forehead and the pureness of your surface. However, if your universe was revealed , the beholder would see a wasteland and a desolate cosmos: no winds blown, no trees moving, no human uttering, no animal sounding.

O, the light Moon,
I had a beloved, who fills my self with the light, my heart with the gratification and the happiness. Many times, I was whispering with her, and she with me, under the care of your hearing and your sight. Nevertheless, the destiny did detach me from her. So, can you tell me about her, explore where she is exist? Perhaps she is scrutinizing you with her eyes as I am looking at you now, whispering as I whispering now, hoping as I hoping now.

I am over here, imagining that I am watching her portrait in your mirror, as though I am watching her weeping for me as I am weeping for her; therefore, my yearning for her deepens unremittingly, and my sadness about her does so… Do stay where you are for a long time, our station will prolong; and our meeting will linger.

O, the light Moon,
Why do I see you moving down to your west as if you want to abandon me? Why do I see your shining light starting to diminish little by little? And what is this drawn sword which is sparkling from the horizon's side, over your head?
Wait up a little! Do not be out of my sight, do not leave me alone. I do not know any one other than you. I cannot be in a friendly atmosphere without you.

Ah! The dawn has broken. Who is kind to me has parted from me. My friend has departed away. Afterward, when will the desolateness of the day elapse? And when will the joviality of the dark approach?