بسيفك المُنْتَضى من الكَحَلِ

ووَرْدِك المُجْتنى من الحجلِ

With your sword, sharpened with kohl,

And your rose, plucked from the bramble,

وكأسك المُشْتَها مُقَبَّلُها

أَنت لأَجلي خلقت أَمْ أَجَلي

And your cup, kissed when sipped,

Were you created for me, or I for you?

أَهوى لذِكراك كلًّ عاذلة

حسْبك حبّاً محبّةُ العَذَل

I yearn for your mention, though the blamer blames,

Your love suffices me - the love of the blamer.

لولاك لم أَستلذّ لائمةً

فليت مَنْ لامني عليَّ وَلِي

Were it not for you, I'd not delight a blamer,

Oh, that the one blaming me were my ally,

كي لا يكون المَلام منه على

مُعتدِل القدّ غير معتدِل

So the blame from him would not be for

One straight of body, corrupt of soul,

مُبتهجٌ والنّفوس ذاهلةٌ

وآِمنٌ والقلوب في وَجَل

Joyous while hearts are heedless,

Safe while hearts are fearful.

لو بان جسمي لِخصره لَشكا

ذاك إِلى ذا ظُلامةَ الكَفَل

If my body appeared to his waist, it would complain

Of the darkness of that to this.