بِكُلِّ طَريقٍ لي مِن الحُبِّ راصِدٌ

بِكَفَّيهِ سَيفٌ لِلهَوى وَسِنانُ

With every path, a watcher lies in wait for me,

His hands holding a sword for passion and a spear for desire;

وَمَا لي عَنهُ مِن مَفَرٍّ وَإِنَّني

لَأَجبُنُ عَنهُ وَالمُحِبُّ جَبانُ

I have no escape from it, though indeed

I would shy from it - for lovers are weak;

فَقَد صِرتُ بَينَ البابِ وَالدارِ لَيسَ لي

مَقامٌ وَلا لي إِن خَرَجتُ أَمانُ

So I stand now between the door and the house, with

No rest, and no safety if I venture out;

وَما سُمتُ نَفسي الصَبرَ عَمَّن أُحِبُّهُ

وَلا خُنتُهُ فيمَن أَراه يُخانُ

I never intended to show patience for one I love,

Nor betray in any I see as traitorous.