نَظَرت إِلَيها نَظرَة وَهيَ عاتِق

عَلى حينِ ان شِبت وَبان نُهودِها

I looked at her once when she turned away

Though time had passed, her beauty was still arrayed

نَظَرت إِلَيها نَظرَة ما يَسُرُّني

بِها حمر انعام البِلادِ وَسودها

I looked at her again, it did not please me

To see her, the belle of the land, in such disarray

من الخفراتِ البيضِ ودّ جَليسِها

إِذا ما اِنقَضَت أحدوثَة لَو تعيدها

Of her fair, young companions, none were left

If only she could reclaim her vanished youth some day