فِراشي فِراشُ الضَيفِ وَالبَيتُ بَيتُهُ

وَلَم يُلهِني عَنهُ غَزالٌ مُقَنَّعُ

My bed is the bed of the guest and my house is his house

Though a veiled gazelle has not kept me from him,

أُحَدِّثُهُ إِنَّ الحَديثَ مِنَ القِرى

وَتَعلَمُ نَفسي أَنَّهُ سَوفَ يَهجَعُ

I converse with him though conversation is from the villages

And my soul knows he will soon depart.