وراقصةٍ أسبلت لِمّةً

عليها تُؤنّق في قصِّها

A dancer draped in a delicate veil

Swaying gently to the tune’s refrain

إذا حرّكتها لذبٍّ يدُ

تغنّى الذّباب على رقصها

When she moves her hands in graceful style

The very flies begin to sing and dance in line

فإن رُمتَ تُحصي خصالاً لها

لدى ذلك الرقصِ لم تُحصها

If you tried to count her virtues and her guile

Lost would be the number during her twirl divine