بِروحي فَتاة الحَيّ مَن أَنا في المَلا

قَتيل هَواها لَو بِها لامني الخلي

My soul be ransom for the maiden of the quarter—who am I among the multitude?

I am slain by love of her, though one untouched by passion blame me for her.

أَقول إِذا حيَّت وَأَهدَت قُرنفلاً

نَسيم الصبا جاءَت بِريّا القُرنفلِ

I say, when she greets me and presents a carnation:

The east breeze has come bearing the carnation’s fragrance.