1. يَقولونَ لي أَقصِر وَلَستُ بِمُقصِرٍ

    وَحُبُّكِ يا سُكنَ الَّذي يَحسِمُ الصَبرا

    They tell me, “Desist,” but I will not desist;

    And love for you, O Sukn, is what cuts off patience

  2. عَلى الهائِمِ المَشغوفِ بِالوَصلِ ما دَعا

    حَمامٌ عَلى أَفنانِ دَوحَتِهِ وِترا

    For the lovesick wanderer, yearning for union, as long as there calls

    A lone dove on the boughs of its spreading tree

  3. ثَلاثَ حَماماتٍ وُقوعٍ إِذا دَعا

    رَدَدنَ إِلَيهِ الحُزنَ إِذ هَيَّجَ الهَدرا

    To three perched doves; whenever it calls,

    They return sorrow to it as it stirs up cooing,

  4. بِصَوتٍ حَزينٍ مُثكِلٍ مُتَوَجِّعِ

    وَنَفسِ مَريضِ القَلبِ أَورَثنَهُ ذِكرا

    In a sorrowful, heart-rending, anguished voice,

    And with a sick-hearted soul; they bequeath him memories

  5. بِكُلِّ كَعابٍ طَفلَةٍ غَيرِ حَمشَةٍ

    وَتَمشي الهُوَينا ما تُجاوِزُهُ فِترا

    Of every tender, budding-breasted maiden, not thin of limb,

    Who walks so gently, her steps no longer than a short span.

  6. وَظَلَّت تَهادى ثُمَّ تَمشي تَأَوُّداً

    وَتَشكو مِراراً مِن قَوائِمِها فَترا

    And she kept swaying, then walked with a languid bend,

    And repeatedly complained of weariness in her legs.

  7. إِذا ما دَعَت بِالمِرطِ كَيما تَلُفَّهُ

    عَلى الخَصرِ أَبدَت مِن رَوادِفِها فَخرا

    When she calls for a mantle, to wrap it

    Around her waist, she reveals the glory of her haunches.

  8. لَعَمري لَقَد كانَ الفُؤادُ مُسَلَّماً

    صَحيحاً فَأَمسى لا يُطيقُ لَها هَجرا

    By my life, my heart was indeed unscathed,

    And sound; now it cannot bear separation from her.

  9. فَجازي وَدوداً كانَ قَبلَكِ في الهَوى

    دَؤولاً فَقَد أَورَثتِهِ السُقمَ وَالأَسرا

    So reward a loving man who, before you, in love

    Was ever roving; you have bequeathed him sickness and captivity.

  10. أَفي الحَقِّ إِذ حُكِّمتُمُ فَحَكَمتُمُ

    صَواباً فَما أَخطاتُمُ الظُلمَ وَالكُفرا

    Is it just that, when made arbiters, you judged

    So unerringly—you missed neither injustice nor ingratitude?