أَعاذِلَتي عَلى إِتعابِ نَفسي

وَرَعيي في السُرى رَوضَ السُهادِ

My blame of myself for distressing my soul,

O you who blame me for exhausting my spirit,

And my shepherding it in the night pastures of sleep,

And for tending the pastures of sleeplessness in my night travels;

إِذا شامَ الفَتى بَرقَ المَعالي

فَأَهوَنُ فائِتٍ طيبُ الرُقادِ

When the youth is illuminated by the lightning of glories,

When a young man sights the lightning of high glory,

The sweetest of missed things is a perfumed sleep.

The sweetness of sleep becomes the lightest loss to bear.