يَقولونَ لي يَوماً وَقَد مَرَّ ضارِباً

بِمِعوَلِهِ ضَربَ المُرَجِّمِ بِالغَيبِ

They say to me one day when the striker

With his hammer struck the translator mysteriously:

تَعَلَّمَ صَفّاراً فَقُلتُ اِستَعارَها

غَداةَ رَنا مِن صِبغَةِ العاشِقِ الصَبِّ

"He learned to whistle, so I said he borrowed it

The morning after the bell rang with the hue of a passionate lover."

يَعودُ النُحاسُ الأَحمَرُ التِبر عَسجَداً

بِكَفَّيهِ عِندَ السَبكِ وَالمَدِّ وَالضَربِ

The reddish copper turns docile

With its palms at melting, stretching, and striking.

فَحُمرَتُهُ مُشتَقَّةٌ مِن حَيائِهِ

وَصُفرَتُهُ مِمّا يَخافُ مِنَ العَتبِ

Its redness is derived from its shyness,

And its yellowness from what it fears of reproach.