اِستاكَ بِالمِسواكِ خالي اللّمَى

وَقَبَّلَ المِسواك منهُ الشّفاهْ

My dark-lipped beloved cleaned his teeth with a miswak,

and his lips kissed the miswak.

فَأَورَقَ المِسواك مِن حينِهِ

وَقالَ إِذ قَد مالَ فَخراً وَتاه

At once, the miswak put forth leaves

and said, as it swayed proudly and strutted:

إِنْ صِرتُ مِنْ ذا خَضِراً لا اِمترا

أَما شَرِبت ماءَ عَينِ الحَياه

“Indeed, through him I have turned green—beyond dispute;

have I not drunk the water of the Spring of Life?”