رَوض حُسنٍ في كفِّه شِمت وَرداً

وَاِحمِرارُ الخُدودِ أَذهَبَ حزني

A garden of beauty in his palm, he plucked a rose

And the blush of his cheeks took away my sorrow

قُلتُ ماذا فَقالَ وَرد سِياجٍ

قُلت ما الخدّ قالَ وَرد حُسني

I asked "What is this?" He said "A rose from the fence."

I asked "What are the cheeks?" He said "The rose of my charm."