1. Our hearts have become accustomed to ardor,
So they make no moan over the pain of passion.
١. قد مَرِنت قلوبُنَا على النّوى
فما تَشكّى من أليمِ الوَجْدِ
2. As though the beauty of their patience towards agony
Were the patience of steel towards flint's blows.
٢. كأنّ حُسنَ صَبْرِهَا على لَظَى
أشواقِها حُسنُ اصطبارِ الزّندِ