كَم قَد تَناوَلتُ اللِذاذَ مِن كُتُب
وَالدَهرُ مَسكونُ الحَوادِثِ وَالنُوَب
How often have I partaken of pleasures drawn from books,
while Time was haunted by adversities and vicissitudes,
في لَيلَةٍ قَمراءَ تَحسُبُ أَنَّها
تُلقي عَلى الآفاقِ أَردِيَةً قَصَب
on a moonlit night—you would think it
cast robes of fine linen over the horizons.
Sol 5.6