كَأَنَّ هِلالَ الشَهرِ قِطعَةُ دُملُجٍ
تَلوحُ عَلى أَعضاءِ مُعتَكِرٍ غاسِ
As though the month's crescent were a piece of an armlet,
gleaming upon the limbs of a murky, pitch-black night.
تَرى الزَهرَةَ الزَهراءَ تَهوي وَراءَهُ
كَما مَرَّ سَهمٌ قاصِدٌ نَحوَ قِرطاسِ
You see radiant Venus hurtling behind it,
like an arrow flying straight toward a paper target.
Sol 5.6