الغُصنُ تُثمِرُهُ الأَغصانُ مِن بانِ

وَكُلُّ غُصنٍ يُحَيّينا بِبُستانِ

The branch bears fruit from the branches

And every branch revives us with an orchard

مُبَشِّرٌ جُلَّنارُ الوَجنَتَينِ بِما

رَبّاهُ في الصَدرِ مِن أَطفالِ رُمّانِ

Good tidings, the two gardens are full of pomegranates

With what it raised in the chest of pomegranate seeds

إِنّي لَأَخشى عَلى وَردٍ بِوَجنَتِهِ

مِن أَن يُسَبِّخَهُ خَطُّ بِرَيحانِ

I really fear for a rose in its garden

Lest a basil streak scorch it