أَيُّها الاهيف الَّذي أَهواهُ
صل محبا هَواكَ قَد أَفناهُ
O beloved gazelle whom I love
Have mercy on a lover whose love has destroyed him
عُذره فيكَ ذا العذار الَّذي دا
رَ وَما كانَ هائِما لَولاهُ
His excuse is in you, O most excusable one
Who has shed copious tears out of passion for you
مُغرَم ما نَوى سلوّك الا
أَفسَدت مُقلَتاكَ ما قَد نَواهُ
A lovesick one who did not intend to be devoted to you
Your glancing eyes have corrupted what he intended
وَاِذا هيج الهَوى نار أَحشا
تَولى وَقالَ وا أَسَفاه
And if passion ignites a fire in the breasts
It turns away and says, “Woe to me!"
يا رَشيق القَوامِ يا ناعِسَ الطر
ف حنانا لِمَن جَفاه كراه
O slender of body, O sleepy eyelids
Show affection to one who has been harshly deserted
أَنتَ وَالبَدر وَالغَزال وَغُصن ال
بان لينا وَبَهجَة أَشباه
You and the full moon, the gazelle and the tender ban branch
Are beautiful to us and a delight to behold
هاكَ روحي خُذها وَالا فَدَعها
أَنا راض بكل ما تَرضاه
I am content with all that pleases you
How much, O gentle of waist, does a heart
كَم أَقاسي يا لين الخصر قَلبا
مِنكَ لِلعاشِقينَ ما أَقساه
Suffer from you—the harshest of all to lovers
How much I call out at night "Woe to me!"
كَم أُنادي في اللَيل أَوّاه لكِن
لَيسَ يَشقى مِن الجَوى أَوّاه
Yet none suffers from ardent love more than my "Woe to me!"
O angel of beauty, O you who possesses
يا مَليك الجَمالِ يا مَن لَه عن
دلاة الغَرام عز وَجاه
Among the throngs of lovers honor and distinction
Your love-dazed slave approaches the precinct
عَبدُكَ المُستَهام يَنهى اِلى حَض
رَةِ عَلياك في الهَوى شَكواه
Of your sublime court with amorous complaints
So show sympathy, O uniquely handsome one of the age
فَتَعطِف يا مُفرَد العَصر حسنا
وَتَلطف به وَحقق رَجاه
Be gentle with him and fulfill his hopes
O reproacher, leave me be, for there is no place
يا عَذولي دَعني فَلَيسَ بِجِسمي
مَوضِع قابِل الحُبّ سَواه
In my body that can harbor love other than for you
With swaying gait and cheeks
وَقوام مهفهف وَخدود
وَلِحاظ سيافة وَشِفاه
And a piercing glance and lips
And a brow that seems to be the dawn
وَجَبين كَأَنَّهُ فَلق الصب
ح بَدا فَوقَ غُصن بان ضِياه
Shining above a tender ban branch
Do not blame me, O fault-finder, if
لا تَلُمني يا عاذِلي اِن يدري
اهيف القَدّ معجب تياه
A gazelle of slender shape is openly infatuated with you
I love him—I do not deny what is evident
أَنا أَهواهُ لَست أَنكر ما بي
لا وَعَينَيه لا أَداري هواه
And I cannot control his love or my eyes
