مِن كُلِّ جِسمٍ كَأَنَّهُ عَرَضٌ

يَكادُ لُطفاً بِاللَحظِ يُنتَهَبُ

Every body seems transient,

So tender it could be plundered by a glance,

نورٌ وَإِن لَم يَغِب وَوَهمٌ إِذا

صَحَّ وَماءٌ لَو كانَ يَنسَكِبُ

A light, even when it doesn’t set, an illusion when

it holds, and water, had it spilled.

لا عَيبَ فيهِ سِوى إِذاعَتِهِ

سِرَّ الَّذي في حَشاهُ يَحتَجِبُ

No flaw in it but its diffusion

Of that secret it hides within its breast,

كَأَنَّهُ صاغَهُ النِفاقُ فَما

يَخلُصُ مِنهُ صِدقٌ وَلا كَذِبُ

As if hypocrisy had minted it, so no

Truth or lies emerge unalloyed.