يا عاذِلي في لَيلِهِ وَنَهارِهِ

خَلِّ الهَوى يَكوي المُحِبَّ بِنارِهِ

O my reproacher, night and day

Let passion burn, it tortures the lover with its fire

وَيحَ المُتَيَّمِ وَيحَهُ ماذا عَلى

عُذّالِهِ مِن ذَنبِهِ أَو عارِه

Alas for the blameless one, what is his sin

Or shame, that he should be so reproached?

يا حُسنَ أَحمَدَ إِذ غَدا مُتَشَمِّراً

في قُرطَقٍ يَمشي بِكَأسِ عُقارِه

O beautiful Ahmad, walking jauntily

In a short coat, cup of wine in hand

وَالغُصنُ في أَثوابِهِ وَالدُرُّ في

فَمِهِ وَجيدُ الظَبيِ في أَزرارِه

Branch tucked in his clothes, pearl in his mouth

And gazelle necklace round his breast

لَكِنَّهُ قاسٍ كَذوبٌ وَعدُهُ

نائي المَزارِ عَلى دُنوِّ جِوارِه

Yet he is cruel, his promise false

Though his dwelling is near, he is far off

ما كانَ أَحذَقَني بِهُجرَةِ مِثلِهِ

لَولا مَلاحَةُ خَدِّهِ وَعِذارِه

None has wounded me by leaving like him

But for his cheek’s softness and coquetry