وَمَعشوقٍ يَتيهُ بِوَجهِ عاجٍ
شَبيهُ الصَدغِ مِنهُ بِلامِ زاجِ
And a beloved who glories in an ivory face,
A beloved lost in an ivory face
His temple-lock resembles a lām drawn in vitriol ink.
His cheek like a curved lam of gold
إِذا اِستَسقَيتُهُ راحاً سَقاني
رُضاباً كَالرَحيقِ بِلا مَزاجِ
When I ask him for wine, he gives me to drink
When I ask him for a breath, he gives me
Saliva like pure wine, without admixture.
A draft like pure honey without mixture
Sol 6.1