لاغَروَ إِن فَتَنَتكَ بِال

لَحَظاتِ فاتِرَةُ الجُفونِ

No wonder if languor troubles you at times,

And eyes grow listless in their weary round;

فَمَصارِعُ العُشّاقِ ما

بَينَ الفُتورِ إِلى الفُتونِ

For lovers' breasts between love's wane and rise

Are battle-fields for peace and tumult bound.

اِصبِر فَمِن سُنَنِ الهَوى

صَبرُ الضَنينِ عَلى الظَنينِ

Have patience; for the law of love is this:

That patient heat must pass through cold's abyss.