جارِيَةٌ ما لِجِسمِها روحُ

بِالقَلبِ مِن حُبِّها تَباريحُ

A doll without a soul

A maiden she is, yet her body holds no soul,

With a heart beating from her love

But in the heart, her love instills deep agony.

في كَفِّها طاقَةٌ تُشيرُ بِها

لِكُلِّ طيبٍ مِن طيبِها ريحُ

In her palm a gesture that points

She holds a bouquet in her palm to make a sign,

To every sweet scent from her sweetness

And from her fragrance, every perfume takes its breath.

سَأَشرَبُ الكَأسَ عَن إِشارَتِها

وَدَمعُ عَيني في الخَدِّ مَسفوحُ

I will drink the cup from her gesture

I shall drain the cup at the moment of her gesture,

And my tears on my cheek are spilled

While tears from my eyes spill freely on my cheek.