عَذيري مِن رامٍ رَماني بِسَهمِهِ

فَلَم يُخطِ ما بَينَ الحَشا وَالتَرائِبِ

My excuse for one who shot me with his arrow

He did not miss between my cheek and neck area

فَأَصداغُهُ يَلسَعنَني كَالعَقارِبِ

وَأَلحاظُهُ يَفعَلنَ فِعلَ العُقارِ بي

So his temples sting me like scorpions

And his glances drug me like mandrake root