أَتُراهُ يَدِقُّ عَن كُلِّ لَمسٍ

لُطفُ جِسمانِكَ المُكَوَّنِ نورا

Do you deem it too ethereal for any touch,

The delicacy of your body, fashioned of light?

ما رَأَينا مِثالَ وَجهِكَ مَوجو

داً وَلا مُشبِهاً لَهُ تَصويرا

We have never seen the likeness of your face exist,

Nor any painted image that resembles it.