أَلَم يُسَقِّيَني سُلافَةَ ريقِهِ

وَطَوراً يُحَيِّني بِآسِ عِذارِ

Did he not quench my thirst with the saliva of his mouth

And for a while revive me with the wine of his excuse?

فَنِلتُ مُرادَ النَفسِ مِن أُقحُوانَةٍ

شَمَمتُ عَلَيها نَفحَةً لِعَرارِ

So I attained the desire of my soul through his kiss

I perceived upon it a scent of magnolia

وَوَجهٍ تَخالُ الخالَ في صَحنِ خَدِّهِ

فُتاتَةَ مِسكٍ فَوقَ جُذوَةِ نارِ

And a face whose moles in the apple of his cheek

Were like crumbled musk over a brazier's embers