تَعَطَّفَ في ساقي تَعطُّفَ ارقَمِ

يُساوِرُها عَضّا بِأَنيابِ ضَيغَمِ

She wound around my leg, writhing,

Her fangs gnawing my flesh greedily.

إِلَيكَ فَلَو كانَت قُيودُكَ أَسعَرت

تَضَرّم مِنها كُلُّ كَفٍّ وَمِعصَمِ

If only your chains were ablaze,

Every palm and wrist would shriek.

وَإِنّيَ مَن كانَ الرِجالُ بِسَبيهِ

وَمَن سَيفهِ في جَنَةٍ أَو جَهَنمِ

For I am he whose men were taken captive,

Whose sword is destined for paradise or hell.