ما أَخطَأَ الوَردُ مِنكَ لَوناً

ما أَخطَأَ الوَردُ مِنكَ لَوناً

وَطيبَ ريحٍ وَلا مَلالا

وَطيبَ ريحٍ وَلا مَلالا

The rose is no different from you in color,

The rose did no wrong in its hue

Nor in sweet fragrance, nor in growing bored.

Nor with its fragrance sweet and true

أَقامَ حَتّى إِذا أَنِسنا

أَقامَ حَتّى إِذا أَنِسنا

بِقُربِهِ أَسرَعَ اِنتِقالا

بِقُربِهِ أَسرَعَ اِنتِقالا

It stayed until, when we found comfort

It stayed until we were used to its nearness

In its nearness, it hastened to depart.

Then swiftly its leave it flew