شابَت عَوارِضُه وَاِبيضَّ أَسودُها

فَزادَني وَلَهاً فيها نَضارتُها

Her cheeks grew rosy and her black hair whitened,

Increasing my passion for her in her bloom.

وَلَم يَشِب إِنّما شَمسُ البَها غَربَت

تَحتَ العِذارِ وتعلوهُ أشعّتُها

But the sun of her beauty has not declined,

It only set beneath her excuses, its rays rising above them.