عَمَرت ربعَ الهوى بقلبٍ

لقوة الحبِ غير ناكس

I have filled a quarter of passion with a heart

Whose strength of love is unmatched

لبثتُ فيه أجرُّ ذيل الذ

حول أحببْ به لللابس

I have lingered in it, dragging the train

Of the robe I loved for the wearer

إن متُّ شوقاً فلي غرامٌ

نباتُه بالسقام وادس

If I die of longing, my love has a plantation

Whose crops grow in sickness and misery

أما حديثُ الهوى فحقٌ

يصرف بلواه كلُّ حادس

As for the talk of love, it is true

That turns away its afflictions from every introverted one

تعبت بالشوقِ في حبيبٍ

أنا به ما حييتُ بائس

I grew weary of longing for a beloved

With whom, as long as I live, I am miserable

يختالُ كالغصنِ ماسَ فيه

طرفٌ فأزرى كلُّ مائس

He sways like a branch humbled in him

A gaze, so I envy every fortunate one

دنيا تبدّت لكلِ وأي

فهو لدنياه أيُّ حارس

A world that seemed attainable to all, but

He is to his world, what guardian?

يلعبُ بالعاشقين طُراً

والكلُّ رضوانُ وهو عابس

He plays with lovers coyly

And they are all satisfied, while he is sullen