أَفدي الغزالَ الّذي في طَرفِهِ دَعج

أَفدي الغزالَ الّذي في طَرفِهِ دَعج

مِن سِحرِ إِنسانِهِ ذا الطّرف قَد مَرِضا

مِن سِحرِ إِنسانِهِ ذا الطّرف قَد مَرِضا

I would ransom the gazelle with deep-black eyes.

I would ransom the gazelle whose eyelash is languid

From the magic of its pupil, this eye has grown languid.

From the magic of his glance that eye is sick

وَكُلّما فَوَّقَت لِلسَّهمِ مُقلَتُهُ

وَكُلّما فَوَّقَت لِلسَّهمِ مُقلَتُهُ

فَغَير قَلبِيَ لا أَرضى لَهُ غَرَضا

فَغَير قَلبِيَ لا أَرضى لَهُ غَرَضا

And whenever his eye nocks the arrow,

And whenever his eyelid aimed an arrow

I accept no target for it but my heart.

My heart changed its purpose, unwilling to be pierced