يا مَنْ لكثيبٍ ذابَ وجداً بِرَشا

لو فازَ بنظرةٍ إليهِ انتعشا

O one whose ardor for a hill melted with yearning

Were he to gain a glance at it he'd be refreshed

هَيهاتِ يَنَالُ راحةً منهُ شجٍ

ما زالَ مُعَثراً بهِ مُذْ نَشَا

Alas! No rest will come to one so lovesick

Who stumbles still though matured when young