طَرَقَت نَوارُ مُعَرِّسَي دَوِّيَّةٍ

نَزِلاً بِحَيثُ تَقيلُ عُفرُ الأُبَّدِ

The caravan of a bride's procession stopped

At a place where the plains of eternity lie still

نَزَلَت بِمُلقِيَةِ الجِرانِ وَهاجِدٍ

وَالصُبحُ مُنصَدِعٌ كَلَونِ المُسنَدِ

It stopped at Muliqiyat al-Jiran, exhausted,

And the dawn was breaking like the color of a pillow

حَرفٌ وَمُنخَرِقُ القَميصِ هَوى بِهِ

سُكرُ النُعاسِ فَخَرَّ غَيرَ مُوَسَّدِ

A letter and a torn shirt fell with it

In the intoxication of sleep without using a pillow

وَكَأَنَّما نَزَلَت بِنا عَطّارَةٌ

بِرِياضِ مُلتَفٍّ حَدائِقُهُ نَدي

As if a perfumer had descended upon us

In gardens wrapped around, its orchards moist