وَبِمُهجَتي يا عاذِليَّ مُهَفهَفٌ

جمع التنحولِ بِأَسرِهِ في خَصرِهِ

With my delight, O you who blame me, he is swaying,

Gathering the curving in his waist altogether,

أَسروه من بلد الثُغورِ فَأَصبَحَت

نَفسي أَسيرَة ناظريهِ وَثَغرِهِ

They captured him from the land of frontiers, so my soul became,

A captive of his eyes and mouth,

وَحَياتِهِ لَولا مَلاحةَ وَجهِهِ

ما ذَلَّ إِيماني لعزَّةِ كُفرِهِ

And his life - if it were not for the beauty of his face,

My faith would not have surrendered to the glory of his blasphemy