Call out, O herald, over every group: ** Have you seen, O Muslims, a slave who has escaped?
A slave with a moon-like face, musk-scented, a seduction, ** swift in pride, gentle in peace.
A child with a ruby robe, charming, sweet, ** tall as a cypress, playful eyes, a prominent agility.
By his side a lute, in his hand a pick, ** he plays a sweet melody, a captivating presence.
Does anyone have a single fruit from the garden of his beauty? ** Or a bouquet from the flower garden of his charm for fragrance?
A Joseph whose worth made the king of Egypt a pauper, ** everywhere, like Jacob, hearts are wounded by his glance.
I offer sweet life as a reward, permissible to him, ** whoever brings a sign or a hidden hint.