حَمامَةَ البانِ بِذاتِ الغَضا

ضاقَ لِما حَمَّلتِنيهِ الفَضا

The dove of the wilderness in her solitude

Is oppressed by the vastness of space

مَن ذا الَّذي يَحمِلُ شَجوَ الهَوى

مَن ذا الَّذي يَجرَعُ مُرَّ القَضا

Who can bear the agony of passion?

Who can drink the bitter cup of fate?

أَقولُ مِن وَجدٍ وَمِن لَوعَةٍ

يا لَيتَ مَن أَمرَضَني مَرَضا

I cry in anguish and heartache

Oh, that he who made me ill might heal me

مَرَّ بِبابِ الدارِ مُستَهزِئاً

مُستَخفِياً مُعتَجِراً مُعرِضا

He passed by my abode mocking

Frivolous, veiled, turning away

ما ضَرَّني تَعجيرُهُ إِنَّما

أَضَرَّ بي مِن كَونِهِ أَعرَضا

His veil did not hurt me, rather

His turning away did me harm