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- If a steamer leaves with my friends on sea or land, why should I direct my complaints to the camels? (en)
- Mention no longer the driver on his night journey and the wide striding camels, and give up talk of morning dew and ruins. (en)
- I no longer have any taste for love songs on dwellings which already went down in seas of [too many] odes. (en)
- So, too, the ghada, whose fire, fanned by the sighs of those enamored of it, cries out to the poets: "Alas for my burning!" (en)
- Poetry is the mirror of feeling, it stands above sophistry and delusion. (en)
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