The ills of souls are close to their homelands – the poet Al-Buhtari
The ills of souls are close to their homelands
Arrived, So her neighbours joined her
She made the mountains easy for her pioneer: thyrrhha,
Its glory, its cantaloupe, their sons
So be thankful for the days of goodness
He pardoned her offence with her kindness.
or what you see is a lunar change
in its color, their colors changed
My soul is your redemption, O soul that,
if you were vaccinated, he gave it to her boyfriend
You have increased the disease of hearts, sighs
its prey, and multiplied her spirits
What is the reason why ignorance kept its secret?
if we had not been informed of it
I told her of the unseen, then i saw her
are getting closer, And it gets smaller
I heard your description, I said if she
increased, And the biggest thing I want is to lose it
Do not send her slanderous worries,
after worries, they are her aides
I am afraid of her aftermath
medicine appeared, And in his hands it gives free rein
a stroke of hate spurs another,
Like fire, stop sighing and burn it
And the sword may purify him from the rust of rust
The treadmill troubled her virgin and her assistant
And the full moon covers it by day, so you start
darkness of darkness, and enlightened him
Do not be deprived of a clan that rises to
the happiness of the old clan, and their serfs
so you, the day we shall consider what is best for her,
the hand of the craftsman, her face and her tongue