نَفسي الفِداءُ لمن حَبَتْني كفُّهُ

تُفَّاحتينِ حكاهُما في الطيبِ

My soul be ransom for the one whose hand bestowed on me

two apples—whose fragrance he matched.

فحلفتُ أني ما كحلتُ نواظري

بمُشاكلٍ لهما ولا بضَريبِ

I swore that never had I lined my eyes

with anything resembling them, or any peer.

فتَورَّدت وتعصْفَرَتْ وجناتُهُ

إذْ قُلْتُ ذاك فأسرعَتْ تَكْذِيبي

Then his cheeks turned rose-red and saffron-gold

when I said that, and hastened to give me the lie.