ومراض مرهفات فتكت

ومراض مرهفات فتكت

بي وحاشاكَ ولا مثل الكحلْ

بي وحاشاكَ ولا مثل الكحلْ

Languid, keen-edged eyes have dealt death

And ailments so subtle did strike

to me—you excepted—and nothing compares to kohl.

At me, and far be it from you, not like kohl

وأما والحبِّ لولا شوكها

وأما والحبِّ لولا شوكها

لاجتنت ألحاظها ورد الخجلْ

لاجتنت ألحاظها ورد الخجلْ

But, by Love, were it not for her thorns,

And if not for love's thorns

her glances would pluck the rose of bashfulness.

I'd have plucked its gazes, blush's rose