تَدْبِيجُ حُسْنِكَ يا حَبِيبي قَدْ غَدَا

فِي النَّاسِ أَصْلَ بَلِيَّتِي وَبَلَائِي

Your beauty's spell, my dear, has come to be

The root of all my woe and misery

بِالطُّرَّةِ السَّوْدَاءِ فَوْق الغُرَّةِ ال

بَيْضَاءِ فَوْقَ الوَجْنَةِ الحَمْرَاءِ

Above the cheek so fair, above the locks

As black as night, as bright as morning rocks