ظَبيٌ كَسا رَأسي المُشبَّبَ بِعارِضٍ

نَمّ العِذارُ بِحافَتَيهِ وَلاحا

The gazelle bent my head adorned with tresses

Dew moistened their edges and glistened

فَكَأَنَّما أَهدى لِعارِضِ خَدِّهِ

شَعري ظَلاماً وَاِستَعاضَ صَباحا

As though my hair had gifted shadows to his cheek

And his morning rejoiced in their darkness