حَيِّ غَزالاً سَلَّ مِنْ أَجْفانِهِ

عَضْباً غَدَا يَقْتُلُ في أَجْفانِهِ

A greeting to the gazelle whose eyelids

Spawned anger that became murderous at dawn

فالسّحْرُ مَا اسْتُنْبِطَ مِنْ لِحَاظِهِ

وَالدُّرُّ ما اسْتوْدِعَ فِي مَرْجَانِهِ

Sorcery was not conjured from his glances

Nor were gems hidden away in his iris

كَمْ بِتُّ أَجْنِي مِنْ جَنَى خَدِّه

وَرْداً نما فَوْقَ غُصُونِ بانِهِ

How often have I plucked from his cheek’s orchard

A blossoming rose on the branch of his daintiness

حَيْثُ أَسوغُ العَذْبَ مِنْ مَرْشِفه

وَأَرْشِفُ الواضِحَ مِنْ جُمانِهِ

Where the freshest drink comes from his cup

And I drink deep the clarity in his chalice

مَنازِلاً كُنْتُ بِهَا مُصَرِّفاً

أَعِنَّةَ اللَّهو لَدَى مَيْدانِهِ

The playgrounds where I amused myself

Toying with the distractions of leisure in their plaza

فيا رَعَى اللَّه زَماناً قَدْ مَضَى

وَالعَيْشُ مَنْسُوبٌ لِذي زَمانِهِ

Oh may God preserve the days now passed

For life belongs to he who owns his time