Beautiful Fatme! Beautiful Fatme!
Below in your father’s gardens
Seven almond trees are blooming:
Wouldn’t you like to wait for the flowers?

In each of the almond trees
Sits a pair of nightingales:
Won’t you come, wouldn’t you like to listen
To the sounds of their sweet songs?

In the shadow of the almond tress
A spring of water burbles:
On this warm night, wouldn’t you like to rest
Beside the cool, bright fountain?

The moon has circled so many times;
All of my nights here, you coy one,
And yet you won’t come to the window,
Give me greeting or talk with me.

Look, I know the pathways and shortcuts,
And have lain in waiting for a long time.
There, by the thorny hillside,
It’s nothing for me to climb over the wall.

Beastly, beastly singer!
Don’t disturb my sleep so.
Quiet, quiet – so that my mother
Won’t waken and punish me.

Beastly, beastly singer! 
Must I have to sneak down like this,
Must I wet my tender feet with dew?
Poor child! Brush off the grass.

But carefully, good Abdul,
Carefully scale the wall!
If you should fall and hurt yourself,
Ah, you would cause me distress and sadness!