ما أبْصَرَتْ عَيْني ولا عينُ أحَدْ
أحسنَ من روضٍ أريضٍ مُنْتَضِدْ
Never has my eye, nor anyone else’s, beheld
anything lovelier than a lush garden, beautifully arrayed,
بباغِ مَسْعُودِ على بابِ البَلَدْ
كأنما الكَتَّانُ فيه إذْ عَقَدْ
in Bāgh Masʿūd, beside the city gate.
As though the flax there, when it formed buds
ونَشَّرَ الأوْرَاقَ زُرْقاً في المَدَدْ
آثارُ قَرْصٍ من مُحِبٍّ في جَسَدْ
and unfurled blue petals across its spreading reach,
were marks left by a lover’s pinch upon a body.
Sol 5.6