أَفدي مُقَلاً عَليلَةَ الأَلحاظِ

أَفدي مُقَلاً عَليلَةَ الأَلحاظِ

تَرنو فتُعير سحرَها أَلفاظي

تَرنو فتُعير سحرَها أَلفاظي

I would ransom eyes whose glances are languid.

I ransom the languid, ailing eyes,

They gaze, lending their magic to my words.

Yearning, so my words fail its magic to describe,

راحَت فِتَناً فتورُها يُعجِبني

راحَت فِتَناً فتورُها يُعجِبني

مِن نائمها دُهيتُ لا الأيقاظِ

مِن نائمها دُهيتُ لا الأيقاظِ

They have become temptations; their languor delights me.

In repose she stirs my passion, weakness beguiles,

I was undone by the sleepy among them, not the wakeful.

In sleep enraptured, not in waking's guise