عابُوا هَوَى شادِنٍ في رجله قِصَرٌ

من سُكْرِ ألحَاظِه في مَشْيِه ثَمَلُ

They reproach the love of Shadin though he limps a little,

Intoxicated by her glances as he walks unsteadily.

وما هَوَى خُوطِ بانٍ مَاسَ من هَيَفٍ

عَيْبٌ وإنْ كان عيباً فهو مُحْتَمَلُ

Yet the string of a harp sounds no worse when it is frayed;

A flaw is still bearable if the flaw can be excused.