كَأَنَّ نُجُومَ الليْلِ مِنْ خَوْفِ فَجْرِها

وَقَدْ جَدَّ مِنْها لِلْغُرُوبِ عَزائِمُ

The stars of night, as if fearing their dawn,

Have firmly resolved to set into the west;

جُفُونٌ حَماها الشَّوْقُ أَنْ تَطْعَمَ الكَرى

فَأَعْيُنُها مُسْتَيْقِظَاتٌ نَوائِمُ

Their lids, which yearning has kept awake, refuse sleep

So their eyes are wakeful slumberers.