يا شَقيقَ الشقيق صُدغاً وَخَدّا

وَأَخا السَروَةِ اِعتِدالا وَقَدّا

O cheek, so soft and fair

O graceful swaying Cypress tree

بِكَ إِلّا سَتَرتَ بِالوَصلِ عَنّي

وَجهَ إِعراضِكَ الَّذي لَيسَ يَندى

If not for you, your love would hide from me

Your face of disdain, though it fades not away

ما كَفاهُ أَن صارَ خَدّي بَهارا

مِنهُ حَتّى صارَت دُموعِيَ وَردا

Was it not enough that your cheek did ensnare

My tears, until they flowed as fragrant as rose's bouquet