وَشَيخٍ رَأَيتَ لَهُ لِحيَةً

أَشَدَّ بَياضاً مِنَ الدِرهَمِ

An old man I saw with a beard

Whiter than silver itself

فَلَمّا التَقَيتُ بِهِ في غَدٍ

بَدَت وَهيَ حَمراءُ مِثلُ الدَمِ

Yet when next I met him at dawn

It seemed as red as fresh blood

فَقُلتُ لَقَد شِنتَ كافورَها

بِهَذا الخَلوقِ وَلَم تَعلَمِ

I said “You have dyed its camphor

With henna, but little recked”

دَعِ العاجَ يَبقى عَلى حالِهِ

فَلِلعاجُ أَبهى مِنَ البَقمِ

“Let ivory be in its nature

For ivory's finer undecked”