O singers of the beloved, I became drawings – the poet Al-Buhtari

O singers of loved ones, you have become drawings,
And eternity is to blame for you
A thousand misery is your chance, have been
we have a kindergarten, and bliss
those who have left you, and they kept
In the margins of the viscera, residing grief
Where did those antelopes get their sense?
we turn, And in the distance there are stars
They have found solace a peaceful coolness,
When We found passion a painful torment
O father of grace, who inherited the silver
for the sake of the bad, and old
I may have restored your shades of gold
rr, And he became, after all, a venerable
You from the two-headed through
Givens in glory great luck
a camel in you, if we swear by the naughty
Why did the mean become mean?
soft smell, fading, and dawn
in her gusts, breeze
Exploits may even come to you
We thought you were a fish
Every day our hopes are in you for the mother
The stars demand you
Al easy! you are the relief of bani saj
Saint Judah, Najda, and melodious
any merit, What kindness,
This generosity did not ally Abraham
Like a succulent you received in the war, Leith
forcibly, And in the dew they are wise
clear face and active, so what
The face of time was a wild face
hippie, have taken from every art,
of the arts, good luck
Thin words are lined up in the asses
well done, curated pearl
slandered him, I left scars
tired of his body, and gloomy
and saw him in an envious state,
And you see him in a dead state
Every day is benefited by the rain and the weather
when it was bad, or evaluator
Praise be to Allah blasphemous slandered, in the morning
In the greatness of God, praiseworthy and reprehensible