1. وَكائِن لهونا مِن رَبيعِ مَسَرَّةٍ

    وَصيفٍ لهوناه قَصيرٍ ظَهائِرُه

    And many a joyful spring we spent in play,

    And summer we enjoyed, with noontides brief,

  2. بِجِزعٍ تُغَنِّينا بِهِ مُستَظِلَّةٌ

    بِساقٍ تُغَنّيه وَساقٌ يُحاوِرُه

    In a valley-bend, where a shade-sheltered dove sang to us,

    Singing a 'sāq' call, with another 'sāq' answering it.

  3. دَعَت ساق حُرٍّ وانتَحى مِثلَ صَوتِها

    يُمائِرها نَوحاً بِهِ وتُمائرُه

    She called 'sāq ḥurr'; he took up a voice like hers,

    Vying with her in that lament, as she vied with him.

  4. أَظلَّ بأَطلالِ المَليحَةِ بَعدَنا

    دَروجُ السَّفا تأتابهُ وَتُباكِرُه

    He remained at al-Malīḥa's ruins after we had gone;

    The sand-drifting wind visits him, coming to him at dawn.

  5. فَلو أَنَها كانَت بَدَت يَوم حَيَّةٍ

    لِمُنعَطفِ القَرنين وَعرٍ مطامِرُه

    Had she appeared on the day of Ḥayya,

    To a recurved-horned buck whose leaping-places are rugged,

  6. مِنَ الهائِباتِ السَّهلِ في مُشَمخِرة

    بِحَيدِ وَعولٍ يأَمَنُ القَومَ فادِرُه

    One of those that fear the plains, on a towering height,

    On an ibex ridge, where its mature buck is safe from men,

  7. أَتاها وَلَو قامَ الرماةُ وَساقَهُ

    حِبالُ الصِّبا حَتى تَحينَ مَقادِرُه

    He would have come to her, even if archers stood there, driven

    By the cords of youthful longing until his appointed fate came due.

  8. تَهادى كَسَيلِ الرَّكِّ يَجري حَبابُه

    بِبَطحاء ذي وَعثٍ قَليلٍ نَهابِره

    She sways like a stream from light rain, its foam flowing

    Through a gravelly valley-bed of loose sand, with few hollows.

  9. خَلوبٌ لأَلبابِ الرِّجالِ بِدَلِّها

    حِماها حَرامٌ أَن تُحَلَّ مَحاجِرُه

    She captivates men's minds with her coy grace;

    Her guarded domain is inviolate; its precincts must not be breached.

  10. إِذا لَم يُحَدِّثكَ الفَتى عَن بَلائِهِ

    أَتاكَ بِما يُبلي الفَتى مَن يُعاشِرُه

    If the young man does not tell you of his mettle,

    His companion brings you word of how the young man proves himself.

  11. وَزايَلَ عِندَ المَوتِ ما كانَ يَحتَوي

    كَأَن لَم يَكُن تُلقى عَليهِ شِراشِرُه

    And at death he parts from all he once possessed,

    As though his whole heart had never been lavished upon it.

  12. أَقولُ وَقَد حالَ الأَجارع دونَها

    وَغيّبها عُلمانُهُ وأَباهِرُه

    I say, though sandy flats have come between me and her,

    And its landmark hills and ridges have hidden her.