طِيبُ الخمول يصدُّني
عَنْ مدحِهِ بسوى الرموزِ
The fragrance of serenity deters me
From praising him with anything but symbols
كنزٌ بهِ ظفرتْ يدي
والكتمُ مِنْ شرطِ الكنوزِ
A treasure my hand has grasped
Yet concealment is a condition of treasures
طِيبُ الخمول يصدُّني
عَنْ مدحِهِ بسوى الرموزِ
The fragrance of serenity deters me
From praising him with anything but symbols
كنزٌ بهِ ظفرتْ يدي
والكتمُ مِنْ شرطِ الكنوزِ
A treasure my hand has grasped
Yet concealment is a condition of treasures