ما بانَ عُذري فيه حتى عَذّرا

ما بانَ عُذري فيه حتى عَذّرا

ومَشَى الدُّجى في خدّه فتحيّرا

ومَشَى الدُّجى في خدّه فتحيّرا

My excuse for loving him became clear only when down grew on his cheeks.

My excuses were not evident until they blamed me,

And darkness walked across his cheek, then grew bewildered.

And gloom walked on his cheek, so it was confused,

هَمّت تُقبِّله عقاربُ صُدغِه

هَمّت تُقبِّله عقاربُ صُدغِه

فاستلّ ناظره عليها خَنجَرا

فاستلّ ناظره عليها خَنجَرا

The scorpions of his temple sought to kiss him,

The tips of his mustache wanted to kiss his mole,

so his eye drew a dagger against them.

So his glances unsheathed towards it a dagger,

والله لولا أن يقال تغيرَّا

والله لولا أن يقال تغيرَّا

وصَبَا وإن كان التصابي أجدرا

وصَبَا وإن كان التصابي أجدرا

By God, were it not that people would say, 'He has changed

By Allah, if it weren't said I changed,

and grown infatuated'—though feigning youth would be more fitting—

And youth, even if aging is more appropriate,

لأعدتُ تفّاح الخدودِ بنفسَجاً

لأعدتُ تفّاح الخدودِ بنفسَجاً

لَثْماً وكافور الترائب عَنْبرَا

لَثْماً وكافور الترائب عَنْبرَا

I would have turned the apples of his cheeks into violets

I would have turned the apples of his cheeks into violets,

with kisses, and the camphor of his upper chest into ambergris.

With a kiss, and the musk of his down into ambergris.