وأسمَرٍ كَقَضيبِ البانِ مُعتَدِلٍ

وأسمَرٍ كَقَضيبِ البانِ مُعتَدِلٍ

ماضي اللِحاظِ ضَعيفِ الطَرفِ فاتِرهِ

ماضي اللِحاظِ ضَعيفِ الطَرفِ فاتِرهِ

And a dusky youth, straight as a branch of the bān tree,

With brown complexion like a stick of ebony,

Keen of glance, yet weak and languid of gaze.

Of languid gaze, with drooping eyelid and glance grown cold,

أُعانِقُ الرُّمحَ مِن حُبّي لِقامَتِهِ

أُعانِقُ الرُّمحَ مِن حُبّي لِقامَتِهِ

وَأَلثُمُ السَيفَ مِن وَجدي بِناظِرهِ

وَأَلثُمُ السَيفَ مِن وَجدي بِناظِرهِ

I embrace the spear out of love for his stature,

I hug my lance for love of its slender waist,

And kiss the sword out of my passion for his gaze.

And kiss my sword for the longing in its bright eyes.