وأَسمرَ ذَنْبي للعواذلِ حُبُّهُ

وذلك ذنبٌ لست منه بتائبِ

My dark complexion I blame on my love for the fair maidens;

A sin for which I feel no repentance or shame.

عُذِلْتُ على حُبِّي له حينَ ذَبَّلَتْ

له الشفةُ اللمياءُ خُضْرَةَ شارب

I've been chastised for loving one whose rosy flushed lips

Have faded and lost their bright verdant hue.

وقد كنتُ أَهوى الحاجبين الَّلذَيْ لَهُ

فكيف وقد صارتْ ثلاثَ حواجب

Once I adored her fine arched eyebrows, but now there are three;

How could I not help but pull back in dismay?