مَا زِلْتُ فِي سُكْرِي أُجَمِّشُ كَفَّهَا

وَذِرَاعَهَا بِالْقُرْصِ وَالآثَارِ

I am still drunk, caressing her palms

And her arms with bites and marks

حَتَّى تَرَكْتُ أَدِيْمَهَا وَكَأَنَّمَا

غُرِسَ البَنَفْسَجُ مِنْهُ فِي الجُمَّارِ

Until I left her skin as though

Lilacs were planted on it from a jar