يا أَيُّها الصَبُّ المُعَنّى بِهِ

ها هُوَ لا خَلَّ وَلا خَمرُ

O object of my passion, behold!

Neither honey nor wine remains;

سَوَّدَ ما وَرَّدَ مِن خَدِّهِ

فَعادَ فَحماً ذَلِكَ الجَمرُ

That flush which on your cheek was wont to dwell

Is now but embers, ashen and cold.