يا مُديرَ الصُّدغ في الخَدِّ الأَسيلْ

ومُجيلَ السِّحر بالطَّرفِ الكحيلْ

O director of the temple in the soft cheek,

And beautifier of magic with the kohl eyelid,

هل لِمحزونٍ كئيبٍ قُبْلةٌ

مِنْكَ يَشفي بَردُها حرَّ الغَليلْ

Is there for a sad, gloomy one a kiss

From you that would heal the heat of agony?

وقَليلٍ ذاكَ إلا أنَّهُ

لَيْسَ مِنْ مِثلِك عِنْدي بالقَليلْ

And that is little, except that it

Is not like you in my view a little.

بأبي أَحوَرُ غَنَّى مَوْهِناً

بِغِناءٍ قَصَّرَ اللَّيلَ الطَّويلْ

By my father I sing, Oh weakness,

With a song that shortened the long night.

يا بَني الصَّيداءِ رُدُّوا فَرَسي

إنَّما يُفْعَلُ هذا بالذَّليلْ

O people of hunters return my horse

This is only done by the humiliated one.