أَحَقًّا عِبَادَ اللهِ أُمْنَعُ مِنْ وَرْدٍ
تَبَدَّى بِلَحْظِي فِي خُدُودِ رَشاً هِنْدِي
Is it true, O servants of God, that I am denied a rose
That appeared to my gaze upon the cheeks of an Indian fawn?
لَقَدْ صَدَّنِي عَنْ شَمِّهِ وَاقْتِطَافِهِ
بِطَرْفٍ عَلِيلٍ لاَ بِسَبْفٍ سَمَرْقَنْدِي
He has prevented me from smelling and plucking it
With a languid glance, not with a Samarkandi sword,
عَلَى أَنَّني أُفْني الْجُيُوشَ بِصَارِمِي
وَأَبْرُزُ يَوْمَ الرَّوْعِ كَالأَسَدِ الْوَرْدِ
Even though I annihilate armies with my sharp blade,
And step forth on the day of terror like a tawny lion.