كَأَنَّما ياسَمينُنا الغَضُّ

كَواكِبٌ في السَماءِ تَبرُ

Our jasmine's tender green, it seems

Like stars that stud the sky, serene

وَالطُرُقُ الحُمرُ في جَوانِبِهِ

كَخَدِّ عَذراءَ نالَهُ العطرُ

While, freshly-dyed in blood, the rose's cheeks blush red,

As if a virgin's with perfume they bled.