وَمَرَّ بِأَكنافِ اللِوى خاطِرُ الصِبا

فَحَرَّضَ شَوقاً لا يَزالُ يُحَرَّضُ

The memory of youth wandered through the folds of nightfall,

Inciting a longing that does not cease to grow intense.

بِلَيلٍ كَما تَرنو الغَزالَةُ أَسوَدُ

عَلى أَنَّهُ مِن نورِ وَجهِكَ أَبيَضُ

At night as the gazelle, jet-black, yearns

For the luminous whiteness of your face.

كَواكِبُهُ زُهرٌ وَصُفرٌ كَأَنَّها

قَبائِعُ مِنها مُذَهَّبٌ وَمُفَضَّضُ

Its stars are blossoms, yellow, as if

They were gilded, embroidered head coverings.