يا قابِضَ المالِ الَّذي لَم تَزَل

يا قابِضَ المالِ الَّذي لَم تَزَل

عَيني إِلى بَهجَتِهِ تَطمَحُ

عَيني إِلى بَهجَتِهِ تَطمَحُ

O money-collector, whose splendor

O hoarder of wealth, to which my eyes

My eye has never ceased to yearn for,

Have always aspired for delight

وَمَن إِذا جَرَّحَني لَحظُهُ

وَمَن إِذا جَرَّحَني لَحظُهُ

غَدا بِلَحظِ خَدِّهِ يَجرَحُ

غَدا بِلَحظِ خَدِّهِ يَجرَحُ

And you who, when your glance wounds me,

And he who wounds me with his glance

Go on to wound me with the sight of your cheek—

Can heal with the smile of his cheek

تَاللَهِ لا أَنفَكُّ مُستَهتِراً

تَاللَهِ لا أَنفَكُّ مُستَهتِراً

فيكَ بِأَشعاري وَلا أَبرَحُ

فيكَ بِأَشعاري وَلا أَبرَحُ

By God, I shall never cease being besotted

By God, I won’t stop being playful

With you in my verses, nor shall I desist.

With my poems about you, I won’t quit

يَعذُبُ لي الإِحماضُ في قابِضٍ

يَعذُبُ لي الإِحماضُ في قابِضٍ

حُلوٍ إِذا ما مَرَّ يُستَملَحُ

حُلوٍ إِذا ما مَرَّ يُستَملَحُ

Saucy jesting about a collector tastes sweet to me,

Bitterness torments me for a sweet hoarder

A sweet one, relished whenever he passes.

Who is salted when he passes by