غُلاميَةٌ جاءَت وَقَد جَعَلَ الدُجى

غُلاميَةٌ جاءَت وَقَد جَعَلَ الدُجى

لِخاتَمَ فيها فَصٌّ غاليَة خَطّا

لِخاتَمَ فيها فَصٌّ غاليَة خَطّا

A boyish maiden came, and night’s darkness had made

A maiden came, and dusk had made

a line of ghāliya perfume a gem for the ring of her mouth.

A ring on her finger with gems arrayed.

فَقُلتُ أُحاجيها بِما في جُفونِها

فَقُلتُ أُحاجيها بِما في جُفونِها

ما في الشِفاهِ اللُعسِ مِن حُسنِها المُعطّى

ما في الشِفاهِ اللُعسِ مِن حُسنِها المُعطّى

So I said, posing her a riddle about what lay in her eyelids,

I said I'd match with lids that shone

and what of her bestowed beauty lay in her dusky lips:

The lips' sweet red, not borrowed, her own.

مُحَيَّرَةَ العَينَين في غَيرِ سَكرَةٍ

مُحَيَّرَةَ العَينَين في غَيرِ سَكرَةٍ

مَتى شَرَبت أَلحاظُ عَينَيك اِسفَنطا

مَتى شَرَبت أَلحاظُ عَينَيك اِسفَنطا

“O bewildered-eyed one, though not drunk,

Eyes wandering, not wine-oppressed,

when did the glances of your eyes drink spiced wine?

When did your glances steep themselves in myrrh?

أَرى نَكهَةَ المِسواك في حُمرَةِ اللَمى

أَرى نَكهَةَ المِسواك في حُمرَةِ اللَمى

وَشارِبَك المُخضَر بِالمِسكِ قَد خُطّا

وَشارِبَك المُخضَر بِالمِسكِ قَد خُطّا

I see the tooth-stick’s scent in the redness of your dusky lips,

I see toothstick's savor on the red of her mouth,

and your green-tinged mustache has been traced in musk.

And her chin, by musk made fresh, brushed over.

عَسى قُزَحا قَبَّلتِهِ فَأخالُهُ

عَسى قُزَحا قَبَّلتِهِ فَأخالُهُ

عَلى الشِفَة اللَمياء قَد جاء مُخَطّا

عَلى الشِفَة اللَمياء قَد جاء مُخَطّا

Perhaps you kissed Quzah; I fancy he

I fancy the rainbow has kissed it, and left it

has appeared in stripes upon your dusky lip.”

Marked on her moist lip with a wrote that won't fade.