تَحَلَّت بِهِ مِن كَوكَبٍ لَبَّةُ الدُجى

وَحَفَّ بِهِ طَرفٌ مِنَ اللَيلِ أَبلَقُ

The mantle of dusk adorned it with a starry brooch

And the night draped around it a hem of darkness.

وَبِتُّ وَعِندِيَ لِلصَباحِ مُلاءَةٌ

تَروقُ وَجَيبٌ لِلظَلامِ يُمَزَّقُ

I spend the night while morning has for me fresh attire

That casts off the murk as a garment torn apart.

يُشافِهُني مِنهُ لِسانُ اِبنِ رَملَةٍ

يَبوحُ بِسِرِّ اللَيلِ وَاللَيلُ مُطرِقُ

The tongue of Ibn Ramla comes to me whispering

Telling in secret tales of the night now hushed and bowed.

وَيَنحَرُ دوني جِنحَ دُجُنَّةٍ

سِنانٌ صَقيلٌ لِلذُبالَةِ أَزرَقُ

And slain before me are wings of starlings,

Blue blades honed keen to slit the throat of gloom.