يُعَاهِدُنِي دَمْعِي عَلَى كَتْمِ سِرّهِ

وَيَجْرِي إِذَا ذِكْرٌ جَرَى وَيَمِينُ

My tears pledge to conceal their secret

And flow whenever memory flows, and an oath

وَمَا ذَاكَ إِلاَّ مِنْ نَجِيعِي خَضَبْتُهُ

وَلَيْسَ لِمَخْضُوبِ الْبَنَانِ يَمِينُ

That is only because my wounds have dyed them

The wounded palm tree has no oath