وَشَقائِقٌ نَقَشَ الرَبيعُ ثِيابَها
فَبَرَزنَ بَينَ مُكَحَّلٍ وَمُجَسَّدِ
And red anemones—spring had embroidered their robes—
came forth, some wreathed and some dyed crimson;
كَالخَدِّ يَصبُغُهُ الحَياءُ بِحُمرَةٍ
وَجَرى عَلَيهِ الدَمعُ خُلطَ الإِثمِدِ
like a cheek that modesty suffuses with a blush,
over which tears ran, mingling with antimony kohl.
Sol 5.6