لم أَنسَهُ إذ رَمى عَن قَوس حاجِبهِ

لم أَنسَهُ إذ رَمى عَن قَوس حاجِبهِ

سَهم اللَواحِظِ يُصمي كُلَّ مَن رَمَقا

سَهم اللَواحِظِ يُصمي كُلَّ مَن رَمَقا

I could not forget him when, from the bow of his eyebrow, he loosed

I have not forgotten him, when from the bow of his brow he loosed

the arrow of his glances, striking dead all whom his two eyes beheld.

The arrow of glances, striking dead everyone he gazed at.

يا لَيتَ قَلبي لِمَرماهُ غَدا هَدَفاً

يا لَيتَ قَلبي لِمَرماهُ غَدا هَدَفاً

رامَ عَلَيهِ بِهاء سَهمِهِ رَشَقا

رامَ عَلَيهِ بِهاء سَهمِهِ رَشَقا

Would that my heart might become a target for his aim,

Would that my heart had become a target for his aim:

that he might aim at it, volleying with the hāʾ in “his arrow.”

His arrow’s splendor sought to shower it with shafts.