أَقولُ وَدَمعي يستهلُّ وَيسفحُ

وَقَد هاجَ في الصَدر الغَليل المبرح

I speak, and my tears flow and pour forth,

As sorrow rages in my heart, unrestrained,

دَعوني من الصبر الجَميل فَإِنَّني

رأَيت جَميلَ الصَبر في الحب يَقبح

Spare me from graceful patience, for I have seen

That patience in love appears uncomely.

لَقَد هَيّج الأَضحى لِنَفسي جوى أَسى

كريهُ المَنايا منه للنفس أَروح

Dawn has stirred in my soul a flame of sorrow -

A misery that makes the soul recoil and flee.

كأَنَّ بِعَيني حَلقَ كل ذَبيحَةٍ

به وَبِصَدري قَلبها حين تَذبحُ

As if before my eyes, every slain creature

Was slaughtered, its heart within my own breast butchered.

فَيالَيتَ شعري هَل لمولاي عَطفة

يداوي بها مني فؤادٌ مُجرَّح

Would that I knew - does my Master have pity

To heal with it a heart that's wounded and torn?

يحنُّ إِلى البدر الَّذي فَوقَ خَدِّه

مَكان سوادِ البدر وَردٌ مفتَّح

Yearning for the full moon whose cheek

Bears a rosy spot where the moon is flawed and marred.

تقنَّع بَدرُ التمِّ عند طلوعِه

مَخافةَ أَن يَسري إِلَيهِ فَيُفضَح

The imperfect moon hides its face at dawn

Fearing the flaw will be exposed and seen.

فَقُلتُ له يا بَدرُ أَسفِر فَقد عدا

عليه رَقيبُ للعدا لَيسَ يبرح

I said: "O moon, shine forth, for the watchful critic

Who would blame such a flaw is nowhere near!"

لعمري لذاكَ البَدرُ أَجمَلُ منظَراً

وَأَحسَنُ من بدر التَمام وَأَملح

By my life! That moon is lovelier to behold

And fairer than the perfect moon could ever be.