يا ظبيةً ألقى هواها إلى

قلبي ولم تدر به جلّ نار

O doe who cast her love unto my heart

Yet knew not that within me burned a fire

لو لم يكن نهدكٍ رمانةً

ما كان في خدكِ ذا الجلنار

Had not your breast been shaped like pomegranates

No blush had graced the apple of your cheek