وَهذهِ صَحِيَفَةٌ

بِأَدْمُعِي مُسَطَّرَه

And this is a parchment

Inscribed with my tears

وَإنَّما سَوَادُهَا

حِدادُ عَيْنٍ لَمْ تَرَه

Yet its blackness

Is the mourning of an unseen eye

يا علمَ الدّينِ الذي

أَخلاقُهُ مُطهَّرَه

O pillar of faith so pure

Of character

وَيَا كَريمَ الفَرْعِ وال

فَرْعُ دَليلُ الشَّجَرَه

O noble scion whose ancestry

The tree trunk reveals

لا أَنْسَ لا أَنسَ وَقَد

أَدارَ رَاحَاً عَطِرَه

I find no joy, no joy since

The fragrant breeze has vanished

كَأَنَّها في كَأْسِهَا

يَاقُوتَةٌ مُُجَوْهَرَه

As though it were a ruby

In a bejeweled cup