صَباحُكَ شِعرٌ , وَ خدٌّ تَوَرَّدْ

وَ عُصفُورُ حُبٍّ عَلَى الغُصنِ غَرَّدْ

Your morning is poetry, and a blushing cheek

And a lovebird chirped on the branch

وَ طَلٌّ , وَ هَمسٌ ؛ وَ غَيماتُ وَجدٍ

وَ أَنداءُ عِشقٍ , وَ شَوقٌ تَرَدَّدْ

And yearning, and whispering; and clouds of passion

And love's calls, and longing echoed

صَباحُكَ وَردٌ , وَ طَلٌّ , وَ قَطرٌ

يَطِيرُ إِلَيكَ بِقَلبٍ تَهَجَّدْ

Your morning is a rose, and yearning, and drops

That fly to you with a heart that sighed

وَ أَطيافُ تَرنُو إِلَيكَ ؛ فَيَهفُو

لِقَلبِكَ قَلبِي الذِي فِيهِ تَسعَدْ

And shadows that gaze at you; so they rave

For my heart in yours in which you are joyful

صَباحُكَ شِعرٌ , وَ تَحنانُ حِبرٍ

وَ أَفياءُ سَطرٍ , وَ حَرفٌ تَنَهَّدْ

Your morning is poetry, and the tenderness of ink

And the elegance of a line, and a letter that sighed

وَ أَطيابُ رُوحٍ مِنَ النُّورِ تَسمُو

بِحِسٍّ شَفِيفٍ ؛ وَ ضَوءٍ زَبَرجَدْ

And a soul's aromas of light that transcend

With a subtle sense; and pearlescent light

صَباحُكَ نُورٌ , وَ عِطرٌ بَخُورٌ

وَ ماءٌ نَمِيرٌ كَصَرحٍ مُمَرَّدْ

Your morning is light, and fragrant incense

And murmuring water like an outstretched palace

تَراتِيلُ مِنْ نَغَماتِ غَرامٍ

بِمِلءِ شُعُورِي إِلَيكَ تَوَدَّدْ

Songs of love's melodies

With all my feelings toward you multiplied

صَباحُكَ حَقلٌ مِنَ الزَّهرِ تَنمُو

عَلَى جانِبَيهِ الأَقاحُ ؛ وَ تَمتَدْ

Your morning is a field of flowers growing

With thistles on its sides; and it extends

وَ نَعناعُ رُوحِي التِي فِيكَ تَلقَى

مِنَ الوُدِّ قَلبًا بِقَلبِي تَوَحَّدْ

And the mint of my soul that finds in you

A heart with my heart it has united

صَباحُكَ صِدقُ اليَقِينِ , ائتِلاقٌ

كَطُهرِ المَواثِيقِ , أَمرٌ مُؤَكَّدْ

Your morning is true certainty, a conjunction

Like the purity of covenants, a confirmed matter

وَ تَشهَدُ رِعشَةُ حَرفِي بِأَنِّي

أُجِلُّكَ , وَ اللَّهِ ياشَهْدُ يَشهَدْ

And my letter's tremor testifies that

I cherish you, and God witness, He witnesses

صَباحُكَ ؟ أَمْ ذاكَ صُبحُ انشِغالِي

بِمَكتُوبِ عِشقٍ مِنَ الشَّوقِ يَحتَدْ ؟

Your morning? Or is it the dawn of my preoccupation

With a book of love from yearning etching?

لِيُهدِيكَ مِنْ سَوسَناتِ ضَمِيرِي

رَحِيقًا ؛ وَ حسّاً مُوَشّى مُجَدّدْ

To give you from the lilies of my conscience

An essence; and a feeling delicately renewed