وحالِكِ اللَونِ كَلَونِ المِسكِ

كأنَّما أحداقُهُ مِن سُكِّ

Your complexion is like the color of musk

As if its moles were made from jet beads

مُدَّرِعٍ ثَوباً دقيق السِلكِ

كأنّما صِباغُهُ باللكِّ

Wearing a garment of delicate mesh

As if dyed by dissolved lac

أزرى بلون الوَرد لو ما يَحكي

نَسِيمُهُ كان بغَيرِ شَكِّ

I would think it the color of roses, were it not

For its breeze which leaves no doubt

ما بَينَ أنوارِ الرُبى كالمَلكِ

Amongst the lights of the meadows, like an angel