مُحيّاهُ رَوضٌ مِنَ الحسنِ زاهٍ

وَكُلُّ جَمالٍ غَدا يَعتَليهِ

A garden it is, from beauty overflowing,

Each charm, next morn, is there seen growing.

وَإِنّ المَحاسِنَ فيهِ أَقامَت

فَصارَ فَريداً بِدونِ شَبيهِ

The beauties sojourn in this place,

And lo! it is matchless in grace.

وَبانَ لِطَرفي على وَردِهِ

وأرِّخ عذارٌ هو المسكُ فيهِ

To my eyes, on its roses I gazed,

And perceived there a fragrance of musk being raised.