اُنظُر إِلى نَقشِيَ البَديعِ

يُسليكَ عَن زَهرَةِ الرَبيعِ

Look at my wonderful engraving

It will distract you from the spring bloom

لَو جُنِيَ البَحرُ مِن رِياضٍ

كانَ جَنى رَوضِيَ المَريعِ

If the sea was picked from gardens

It would be the harvest of my fertile meadow

سَقانِيَ اللَهُ دَمعَ عَيني

وَلا وَقاني جَوى ضُلُوعي

God has watered me with the tears of my eyes

And did not protect me from the heat of my chest

فَما أُبالي شَقاءَ بَعضي

إِذا تَشَقَّيتُ في جَميعي

So I do not care about some of my misery

When I suffer in all of me

كَيفَ تَراني وُقِيتَ ما بي

أَلَستُ مِن أَعجَبِ الرُبوعِ

How do you see me when I am protected from what is in me

Am I not the most wondrous of meadows