ما بانَ عُذري فيه حتى عَذّرا

ومَشَى الدُّجى في خدّه فتحيّرا

My excuses were not evident until they blamed me,

And gloom walked on his cheek, so it was confused,

هَمّت تُقبِّله عقاربُ صُدغِه

فاستلّ ناظره عليها خَنجَرا

The tips of his mustache wanted to kiss his mole,

So his glances unsheathed towards it a dagger,

والله لولا أن يقال تغيرَّا

وصَبَا وإن كان التصابي أجدرا

By Allah, if it weren't said I changed,

And youth, even if aging is more appropriate,

لأعدتُ تفّاح الخدودِ بنفسَجاً

لَثْماً وكافور الترائب عَنْبرَا

I would have turned the apples of his cheeks into violets,

With a kiss, and the musk of his down into ambergris.