قد طلَّق مِن جُفونيَ النَّومَ ثَلاُث

جَذلانُ لِثامُهُ على البَدرِ يُلاث

Sleep has been divorced from my eyelids thrice

The cover of his shyness over the full moon drips

أَستصرخُ مِن مرارةِ الوَجِدِ بهِ

لَكنِّي ممَّا أشتكي ليسَ أُغاث

I cry out from the bitterness of passion for him

But from my complaints, I receive no help