لعلَّك باكِ ان تَغنت حمامَة

يَميد بِها غُصن من الريحِ مائِل

Perhaps you cried when a dove sang

As a branch swayed in the breeze

من الوَرق يَدعوها إِلى شُجوها الضحى

فَتَبكي وَتَبكي حينَ تَدنو الاِصائِل

Leaves called her to her morning sorrow

So she wept, and wept as night drew near