من لمأسورةٍ رَهينَة عامَي

نِ قضَت أسرَها الليالي القَواضي

For two years she has been a captive,

Her freedom taken by the nights' decrees,

وهيَ عَذراءُ إنَّما اختَلَسَتها

نوبُ الدهرِ من يَد المِقراضِ

Yet she was chaste, though fate had stolen her

From the embroiderer's hands, and destinies.

فتَولَّت وفارَقَت أخَواتٍ

ساخِطاتٍ بالبينِ غيرِ روَاضِ

So she turned away, leaving behind sisters

Angry at the separation, discontent.

أسلَمتهنَّ لِلبلى حرفةُ الفُر

قةِ حتَّى ثوَت وهُنَّ مَواضِ

The skill of separation left them to decay

While she stayed fresh, her honor unrent.

وقَسا قلبُها عَليهنَّ لمَّا

رأَت العزَّ في يَدَي غياضِ

When she saw honor in a stranger's hands

Her heart grew hard against her sisters then.

نَسِيَت أنَّها يَدٌ لم تَكن قَط

طُ عَلى المَكرُماتِ ذاتِ انقِباضِ

She forgot that those hands were never wont

To be closed tight around the honored women.

وهوَ يَدري أنَّ الذرائِعَ في الجو

دِ دروعٌ تبقي عَلى الأَعراضِ

And he knows well that barriers in generosity

Are shields that guard all virtuous modesty.