وجفنَينِ أوْفَى بالمنِيَّة فيهما

عليكَ من الغزلان وَسْنانُ أحْوَرُ

Two sheaths, in both of which death is fully assured,

are borne against you by a drowsy, dark-eyed gazelle:

فَجَفنٌ له عَضْبٌ منَ اللَّحظِ مُرْهَفٌ

وَجَفْنٌ به ماضٍ من الهند مُبْتِرُ

one lid holds a cutting sword, honed from a glance,

and one sheath holds a keen, severing blade from India.

وأمضاهما حدّاً فلا تغتررْ به

غِرَارُ الَّذي فيه من السّحْرِ جَوْهَرُ

Yet the keener-edged of the two—make no mistake—

is the blade whose very substance is sorcery.