ما كَذَبَ العاذِلُ لا بَل قَد صَدَقْ

كُلُّ جَديدِ الحُسنِ ذو عَهدٍ خَلَقْ

The reproacher did not lie, nay he spoke true,

Each fresh beauty once embedded in clay was hewn.

أَقولُ إِذ مَرَّ عَلَيَّ سانِحاً

سُبحانَ مَن قَد صاغَ ظبياً مِن عَلَقْ

When one like her passed smiling before me, I exclaimed:

Glory to Him who created a gazelle from a clot!

وَماءِ عَينٍ نارُ قَلبٍ دونَها

كَالجيدِ قَد أَلبَستَهُ ثَوبَ المَلَقْ

The water of her eye, the fire of her heart beneath,

Like a necklace you have clad in a garment of splendor.