مرَّ بنا ظبيٌّ حريريّ

عَذْب اللَمى في عِطْفِه لَيُّ

A gazelle passed by us, silk-soft,

Sweet of glance, gentle of shoulder.

يا ما أُحيلاه إِذا ما شدا

نقول قد جاء السريجيُّ

How lovely when it raced!

We said, “The Syrian has come.”

ما أغنج الألحاظ في طَرْفهِ

وخدُّه باللحظِ مجنيُّ

How languid were the eyes from its glance,

Its cheek from the gaze, inclining.

فظرفه للفرسِ إِمّا بدا

ونطْقُهُ نطقٌ حجازيُّ

Its leg for the horse as though it started to run,

Its speech, speech of the Hejaz.