وَشارِبٍ مِثلَ نِصفِ الصادِ صادَ بِهِ

قَلبي رَشاً ثَغرُهُ أَنقى مِنَ البَرَدِ

With lips like the curve of a sad letter

My heart is drenched, his mouth fresher than ice

كَأَنَّما خالُهُ مِن فَوقِ وَجنَتِهِ

سَوادُ عَينٍ بَدا في حُمرَةِ الرَمَدِ

As if the mole above his cheek

Was a black eye shining amidst pink eyelids