وأَهيَفُ إِقبلُهُ جَنَّةٌ

وَإِنَّ الجَحيمَ لَفي هَجرِه

His coming rouses joy in me,

While his absence makes hell burn within.

يُدَخِّنُ لا نَشوَةً إِنَّما

لِكَي يَطرُدَ النَّحلَ عَن ثَغرِه

Not with pleasure though, but only

To drive the bees away from his lips.