سَهِرتُ فيكَ فَلَم أَجحَد يَدَ السَهَرِ

وَطالَ فِكري وَلا عَتبٌ عَلى الفِكَرِ

I stayed up late for you, not denying the hand of wakefulness,

And my thoughts went on and on, with no blame upon thought.

نادَمتُ ذِكرَكَ وَالظَلماءُ عاكِفَةٌ

فَكانَ يا سَيِّدي أَحلى مِنَ السَمَرِ

I regretted your memory while the darkness kept vigil,

So it was, my master, sweeter than late-night talk.

فَلَو تَرى عَبرَتي وَالشَوقُ يَسفَحُها

لَما اِلتَفَتَّ إِلى شَيءٍ مِنَ المَطَرِ

If you could see my flowing tears and the passion spilling them,

You would not have turned to anything like rain.

يا مَن إِذا قُلتُ يا مَن لا نَظيرَ لَهُ

في حُسنِهِ قيلَ لي يا أَصدَقَ البَشَرِ

O you whom when I say ‘O matchless one’

I am told ‘O most truthful of men’.

ما إِن أَرى وَجهكَ المَكنونَ جَوهَرُهُ

يا أَملَحَ الناسِ إِلّا نُسخَةَ القَمَرِ

Whenever I see your hidden-essence face,

O most elegant of men, it is nothing but a moonscape.