أَفدي الغزالَ الّذي في طَرفِهِ دَعج

مِن سِحرِ إِنسانِهِ ذا الطّرف قَد مَرِضا

I would ransom the gazelle whose eyelash is languid

From the magic of his glance that eye is sick

وَكُلّما فَوَّقَت لِلسَّهمِ مُقلَتُهُ

فَغَير قَلبِيَ لا أَرضى لَهُ غَرَضا

And whenever his eyelid aimed an arrow

My heart changed its purpose, unwilling to be pierced