تُهزِىءُّ مِّني وهي رودٌ طَلَهْ

تُهزِىءُّ مِّني وهي رودٌ طَلَهْ

إن رأت الأحناءَ مُقفعِلَّهْ

إن رأت الأحناءَ مُقفعِلَّهْ

She mocks me, she in the fresh bloom of graceful youth,

You mock me, though she is a myrtle bending down,

when she sees my limbs hunched and drawn in.

If she sees the branches heavyladen,

قالت أرى شَيْبَ القَذال احتلَّهْ

قالت أرى شَيْبَ القَذال احتلَّهْ

والورد من ماء اليَرَنا حَلَّهْ

والورد من ماء اليَرَنا حَلَّهْ

She says, “I see gray hair has taken possession of his nape,

She says, “I see the pollen has turned it gray,”

while rose-red henna-water has settled upon it.”

While the myrtle is moistened from our fountain's spray.