تحفُّ به جنّاتُ دنيا تَعطَّفتْ

لصائغهِ في الحلْي شاتيةً عَطْلى

Gardens of this world are delighted with it,

For its craftsman shaped it into a loose robe,

مُطبَّقَةُ الأفنانِ طيِّبةُ الثَّرى

مُحمَّلةٌ ما لا تُطيقُ لهُ حَمْلا

With interlaced patterns, sweet soil,

Bearing more than a robe could bear,

عناقدُها دُهٌمٌ تَنوَّطُ بينَها

وقد أشرقتْ عُلْواً كما أظلمتْ سُفْلا

Its clasps are clusters that dangle between them,

Shining above as they darken below,

كأنَّ بني حامٍ تدلَّتْ خِلالَها

فوافقَ منها شكلُها ذلك الشَّكلا

As if the descendants of Ham are dangling through them,

So its shape matches that shape,

وإن عُصرتْ مجَّتْ رُضاباً كأنها

جَنَى النَّحلِ من طيبٍ وما تَعرفُ النَّحلا

And if squeezed, it pours forth a juice as if

It were the nectar bees collect, though it knows no bees,

ومَحجوبةٍ حَجمَ الثُّديِّ نواهدٍ

تميسُ بها الأغصانُ منْأدَّةً ثقْلا

And covered, the bulk of breasts with tips

Touched gently by branches, burdened,

كأنَّ مذاق الطعمِ مِنها وطعمُها

لِثاتُ عذارى ريقُها الشَّهدُ أو أَحلى

As if the taste and its flavor were

The saliva of virgins, or sweeter yet.