قُلوبُ الناسِ أَسرى في يَدَيهِ

وَثَوبُ الحُسنِ مَخلوعاً عَلَيهِ

The hearts of people are captives in his hands

And the garment of beauty lies discarded over him

أَسيرُ إِذا بُليتُ وَذابَ جِسمي

لَعَلَّ الريحَ تَسعى بي إِلَيهِ

I'm a captive when my body is worn out and melted

Perhaps the wind will take me to him