لا وَخَدٍّ مِن خُضرَةِ الشَعرِ جَدبِ

لامِعٍ نورَهُ كَصَفحَةِ عَضبِ

No cheek of youthful green from poetry's freshness,

No brightness shining like anger’s page,

وَاِبتِسامٍ مِن بَعدِ تَقطيبِ سُخطٍ

وَرِضا لَحظِ مُقلَةٍ بَعدَ عَتبِ

No smile after frown’s contraction,

No gaze of coquette after reproach.

ما تَبَدَّلتُ ما حَيِيتُ وَلا حَدَّث

تُ نَفسي مَن بَعدَ حِبّي كَحِبّي

I have not changed while I lived, nor conversed

With my soul after my love like my love.