يا ثَغْرَهُ المَحْمِيَّ مِنْه بِنَابِلٍ

مِنْ طَرْفِهِ وَبسائِفٍ مِنْ خَدّهِ

O mouth that burns me with its fangs,

With glances from its corners and locks from its cheek,

وَبِمُتْرفٍ مِنْ صُدْغهِ وَبِناصِرٍ

مِنْ خالهِ وَبِعامِلٍ مِنْ قَدِّهِ

With a dimple from its temple and a half-moon from its mole,

And a wrist like a tender branch.

أرْفُقْ بِما فَعلَ الغَرامُ فَقدْ أَتى

حَظُّ العِذَارِ مُوقَّعاً في رَدِّهِ

Have mercy on one passion has undone,

For the brand of love is stamped upon his heart.