وَشادِن أَصبَحَ فَوقَ الصِفَه

وَشادِن أَصبَحَ فَوقَ الصِفَه

قَد ظَلَم الصَبَّ وَما أَنصَفَه

قَد ظَلَم الصَبَّ وَما أَنصَفَه

And a young gazelle, now beyond description,

has wronged the lovesick lover and not treated him fairly.

كَم قُلتُ اِذ قَبَّل كَفّي وَقد

كَم قُلتُ اِذ قَبَّل كَفّي وَقد

تَيَّمني يا لَيتَ كَفّي شَفَه

تَيَّمني يا لَيتَ كَفّي شَفَه

How often I said, when he kissed my palm—he had already

enslaved me with love—“Oh, would that my palm were a lip!”