لَقَد سَنَحَت لي فِكرَةٌ بارِحِيَّةٌ

وَما زادَني إِلّا اِعتِباراً سُنوحُها

A fleeting thought occurred to me last night,

And its transience caused me only more distress,

بِرَبَّةِ طَوقٍ ما أَقَلَّ جَناحُها

جَناحاً وَفي خُضرِ الغُصونِ جُنوحُها

With the elegance of a dove whose wings are small,

Wings, yet in the green of branches she takes rest,

وَهاجَ حُمَيّاها أَصيلٌ مُذَكِّرٌ

تُغَنّيهِ شَجواً أَو غَداةٌ تَنوحُها

And her innate instincts were stirred awake

To sing her lament or greeting at dawn’s behest,

وَتِلكَ لَعَمري شيمَةٌ أَوَّليَّةٌ

تَوارَثَها شيثُ الحَمامِ وَنوحُها

By my life, this is an old inherited trait

Bequeathed to doves by Sheth and his noble guest.