بَدِيعٌ ذَابَ مِنْ نَظَرِي إِلَيْهِ

وَذُبْتُ صَبَابَةً أَبَداً عَلَيْهِ

He left my sight, that slender one

And I pine constantly for him

فَلَوْلا دِقَّةٌ في الخَصْرِ مِنْهُ

لَكَانَ الجَوُّ يَجْذِبُهُ إِلَيْهِ

If his waist lacked its litheness

The air itself would pull him in