بَكى لي حاسِدي مَيناً وَأدري

بِضِحكِ فُؤادِهِ بَينَ الضُلوعِ

My envious rival shed crocodile tears for me

While in his breast his heart was filled with glee

وَأَكذَبُ ما يَكونُ الحُزنُ يَوماً

إِذا كانَ البُكاءُ بِلا دُموعِ

How false are sorrows that do not draw

The welling tears grief's swelling founts outpour