تَحجب عَني الطَيف حَتّى كَأَنَّهُ

تَخيل إِنساني عَلَيهِ رَقيبا

The shade hides the phantom from me, as if

My imagination had placed a watcher over it.

وَقَد كانَ يَغشى مِن قضبل ما أَحتبك الهَوى

وَظَنَّ خَيالي لِلنحول غَريبا

Once it would cover the branches I loved,

And my fantasy found its leanness strange.