هَلِ الأُدمُ كَالآرامِ وَالزُهرُ كَالدُمى

مُعاوَدَتي أَيّامُهُنَّ الصَوالِحُ

Is manhood like paleness, and youth like redness?

My frequenting of them, those fortunate days,

زَمانَ سِلاحي بَينَهُنَّ شَبيبَتي

لَها شائِفٌ في سَيبِهِنَّ وَرامِحُ

When my weapon amidst them was my youthfulness,

To it clung a quiver, and lethal spears.

فَأَقسَمنَّ لا يَسقينَني قَطَر مُزنَةٍ

لِشَيبي وَلَو سالَت بِهِنَّ الأَباطِحُ

Then they swore they’d never let a drop of rain

Water my grey hairs, even if the clouds poured.