وَفَاتِكٍ بِجُرْحِ سَيْفِ لَحْظهِ

مُجَرَّداً مِن جَفْنهِ ومُغْمَدا

Wounded by the sword of her glance,

Bare of its sheath and eyelid,

خَافَ علَى خَدَّيْهِ مَن لحاظهِ

فَباتَ في عِذارهِ مُزَرَّدا

She who glanced at him feared for her cheeks

And spent the night wrapped in excuses