يا رُبَّ مائِسَةِ المَعاطِفِ تَزدَهي

مِن كُلِّ غُصنٍ خافِقٍ بِوِشاحِ

How many a figure sways, resplendent in her robes,

every branch of hers aflutter with a sash;

مُهتَزَّةٍ يَرتَجُّ مِن أَعطافِها

ما شِئتَ مِن كَفَلٍ يَموجُ رَداحِ

quivering, while from the curves of her body heaves

a broad, full haunch—all one could wish.

نَفَضَت ذَوائِبَها الرِياحُ عَشِيَّةً

فَتَمَلَّكَتها هِزَّةُ المُرتاحِ

The winds shook out her tresses at evening,

and the swaying of one at ease possessed her.

حَطَّ الرَبيعُ قِناعَها عَن مَفرِقٍ

شَمطٍ كَما تَرتَدُّ كاسُ الراحِ

Spring lifted the veil away from her parting,

white-streaked, as the wine cup comes round again.

لَفّاءُ حاكَ لَها الغَمامُ مُلاءَةً

لَبِسَت بِها حُسناً قَميصَ صَباحِ

Dense-foliaged, the clouds wove her a mantle,

and in it she appeared—a beauty in a tunic of morning.

نَضَحَ النَدى نُوّارَها فَكَأَنَّما

مَسَحَت مَعاطِفَها يَمينُ سَماحِ

Dew sprinkled her blossoms, as though

the right hand of generosity had stroked her robes.

وَلَوى الخَليجُ هُناكَ صَفحَةَ مُعرِضٍ

لَثَمَت سَوالِفَها ثُغورُ أَقاحِ

There the stream curved—the cheek of one turning away—

while daisy mouths kissed her side-locks.