لَما صفت مِرآة وَجهك أَيقَنَت

عَينايَ إِني عُدتُ فيكَ خَيالا

When the mirror described your face, my eyes were certain

That in you I had become but a mirage.

وَظَنَنتُ أَهدابي بِوَجهِكَ عارِضاً

وَحَسبت إِنساني بِخَدك خالا

And I thought my lashes against your face a rebel,

And considered my being but a mole on your cheek.