ناحت عليوة بالبكى من حين ما

بَسَمَ القتيرُ بهامتي مُسْتَبْشِراً

She wept for me with tears since when

The archer aimed his arrow at my soul, rejoicing,

صدَّت وصار صدودُها في مهجتي

ناراً وصار الدَّمعُ منّي أبحرا

She turned away, and her turning became in my bosom

A fire, and my tears became from me an ocean,

رمتُ السّلوَ ولا ترومُ جوارحي

وبقيت فَرْداً في الهوى متحيراً

I threw away the quiver, and my limbs do not intend

To settle, and I remained alone in love perplexed,

أيقنت أن عذابها عَذْبٌ ولو

في حُبِّها قِطَعاً أباعُ وأشترى

I was convinced that her torment was sweet even if

In her love I sell and buy pieces