فَدَيتُ مَن تَمَّ فيهِ الظُرفُ وَالأَدَبُ

وَمَن يَتيهُ إِذا ما مَسَّهُ الطَرَبُ

I am the ransom for one in whom charm and refinement are complete,

Who struts with pride when touched by the ecstasy of joy.

ما طارَ طَرفي إِلى تَحصيلِ صورَتِهِ

إِلّا تَداخَلَني مِن حُسنِها عَلَبُ

My glance never flies to obtain the sight of his form,

Without a deep impression of its beauty taking hold within me.

وَرِدفُهُ في قَضيبٍ فَوقَهُ قَمَرٌ

مِن نورِ خَدَّيهِ ماءُ الحُسنِ يَنسَكِبُ

His heavy hips rest on a slender bough, surmounted by a moon;

From the light of his cheeks, the waters of beauty pour forth.

نَفسي فِداأُكَ يا مَن لا أَبوحُ بِهِ

عَلِقتَ مِنّي بِحَبلٍ لَيسَ يَنقَضِبُ

My soul is your ransom, O you whose name I do not disclose,

You have bound yourself to me with a cord that shall never be severed.

كَم ساعَةٍ مِنكَ خَطَّتها مَلائِكَةٌ

أَزهو عَلى الناسِ بِالذَنبِ الَّذي كَتَبوا

How many an hour with you have the angels recorded,

While I boast to the people of the very sin they have written.