ما بَينَ جفائِها وَبَينَ المَيلِ

ضاعَت فُرَصُ الشَباب وَيلي وَيلي

Between her coldness and my longing

The chances of youth are lost, woe is me, woe is me

زارَتنيَ فاِستَبطَأَتِ الصُبحَ وَكَم

جاءَتنيَ تَستَقصِرُ طولَ اللَيلِ

She visited me and the dawn dragged on, and how much

She came to me complaining of the length of night