ومراض مرهفات فتكت

ومراض مرهفات فتكت

بي وحاشاكَ ولا مثل الكحلْ

بي وحاشاكَ ولا مثل الكحلْ

Languid, keen-edged eyes have dealt death

And languid, keen-edged eyes have slain

And ailments so subtle did strike

to me—you excepted—and nothing compares to kohl.

me—may you be spared—and none are like the kohl-dark ones.

At me, and far be it from you, not like kohl

وأما والحبِّ لولا شوكها

وأما والحبِّ لولا شوكها

لاجتنت ألحاظها ورد الخجلْ

لاجتنت ألحاظها ورد الخجلْ

But, by Love, were it not for her thorns,

And indeed, by love, were it not for their thorns,

And if not for love's thorns

her glances would pluck the rose of bashfulness.

their glances would have plucked the roses of bashfulness.

I'd have plucked its gazes, blush's rose