سَرى طَيفُ لَيلى موهِناً فَسرى صَبري

وَجَدَّدَ مِن وَجدي وَهَيَّجَ مِن ذكري

The phantom of Layla passed by, weakening my patience,

It renewed my passion and stirred my memories,

تَأَوَّبَني مِنها خَيالٌ قَرى المُنى

وَما خِلتُها تَسري وَلا خِلتُهُ يَقري

A vision of her settled in my abode of wishes,

Neither did I cease longing for her, nor did my longing find peace,

فَبِتُّ بِها ضَيفاً مُقيماً بِرَحلِهِ

وَباتَت بِنا طَيفا يُثيبُ وَما يَدري

So I spend the night as a guest with packed bags,

While she spent the night as a phantom that comforts without knowing,

فَزارَت وَما زارَت وَجادَت وَلَم تَجُد

وَواصَلَ عَنها الطيفُ وَهيَ عَلى هَجرِ

She visited without visiting, was generous without giving,

While the phantom kept visiting as she estranged herself,

لَهَوتُ بِها مِن كاذِبِ اللَهوِ لَيلَةً

أَرى باطِلاً كَالحَقِّ في النَومِ وَالفِكرِ

One night it toyed with me, with the lies of vain pastime,

I saw falsehoods as truths in sleep and thoughts alike.