وجهٌ تكامَلَ حُسنُه

لمّا تطرَّفَه عِذَارُهْ

A face perfect in its beauty

When adorned by bashfulness

والسيف أحسن ما يُرى

ما كان مُخضَرّاً غِرَارُهْ

The sword is finest when seen

With its blade still shining new

غصنٌ شقيتُ بغرسه

فالآن حين زكت ثِمارُهْ

A branch I planted in sorrow

Now that its fruit is ripe and true

عطف الوشاةُ فُرُوعَهُ

عنّي وفي قلبي قرارُهْ

Spiteful tongues try to turn it

Yet my heart holds it fast and true