It were you who rained on the soil too dry
Here is a paradise; hell may be at the sky,
It were you who danced as the showers
It were you who sprung into flowers,
Neither birds nor beasts, nor a human, or a Jinn,
It’s none else, wasn’t me, who committed this sin,
The weather was pleasant, and long were your arms,
Drunk in the wine of your ecstatic charms
It wasn’t a girl, wet and visible in a suit of lawn
Having dreamed a kiss in her teens she came as a dawn
It wasn’t a boy in the rains; she was difficult to be missed,
It wasn’t me, it were you, who first time kissed!
And if the proceeding dusk lead to a moonlit night
Don’t hide your naughty face, it’s too much bright.