طَلَعَت وَاللَيلُ مُشتَمِلٌ

سابِغُ الأَذيالِ وَالأُزُرِ

The night emerged, cloaked

In its heavy, dark garments.

مِن خَصاصاتِ الغَبيطِ وَقَد

غَرَّدَ الحادي عَلى أُقُرِ

The happy cockerel heralded

From its perch.

وَرِقابُ القَومِ مايِلَةٌ

مِن بَقايا نَشوَةِ السَهَرِ

The people's necks slanted

From the remains of a night of wakefulness.

فَاِستَقاموا في رِحالِهِمُ

يُتبِعونَ الضَوءَ بِالنَظَرِ

So they straightened upon their mounts

And followed the light with their gaze.

فَاِمتَرَينا ثُمَّ قُلتُ لَهُم

لَيسَ هَذا مَطلِعُ القَمَرِ

We continued on, and I said to them:

This is not the rising of the moon.