وَاِكبثدي مِن زَفَراتِ الضَنى

حُبَّ لَها مِمّا تَذوبُ الفَنا

My sighs proclaim a love which fadeth never,

The torment of my grief naught may relieve;

لَم يَضَعِ اللَومُ عَلى عاشِقٍ

شَفرَتَهُ إِلّا اِنتِحابي أَنا

No blame to lovers who have fled discretion,

For madness holds me fast, and I must grieve.