وَقَينَةٍ كُلُّ وَجهِها أَنفُ

وَقَينَةٍ كُلُّ وَجهِها أَنفُ

كَأَنَّما وَجهُها لَها خَلفُ

كَأَنَّما وَجهُها لَها خَلفُ

And a songstress whose whole face is a nose,

A perfume whose every feature is a nose,

As though her face were her backside.

As though its face had a nose behind it too.

غَنَّت فَلَم تَبقَ فِيَّ جارِحَةٌ

غَنَّت فَلَم تَبقَ فِيَّ جارِحَةٌ

إِلّا تَمَنَّيتُ أَنَّها كَفُّ

إِلّا تَمَنَّيتُ أَنَّها كَفُّ

She sang, and not one limb in me remained

It sang, and left within me not one limb

But I wished it were a hand.

That didn't wish it were a hand.