رَوض حُسنٍ في كفِّه شِمت وَرداً

رَوض حُسنٍ في كفِّه شِمت وَرداً

وَاِحمِرارُ الخُدودِ أَذهَبَ حزني

وَاِحمِرارُ الخُدودِ أَذهَبَ حزني

A garden of beauty—in his palm I beheld a rose.

A garden of beauty in his palm, he plucked a rose

And the redness of the cheeks dispelled my sorrow.

And the blush of his cheeks took away my sorrow

قُلتُ ماذا فَقالَ وَرد سِياجٍ

قُلتُ ماذا فَقالَ وَرد سِياجٍ

قُلت ما الخدّ قالَ وَرد حُسني

قُلت ما الخدّ قالَ وَرد حُسني

I asked, “What is it?” He said, “A hedge rose.”

I asked "What is this?" He said "A rose from the fence."

I asked, “What is the cheek?” He said, “The rose of my beauty.”

I asked "What are the cheeks?" He said "The rose of my charm."