1. لم تُمحَ بالدَّمعِ بعدَ البَينِ آماقي

    وها فُؤادي مَعي بَعد النَّوى باقِ

    My eyes' inner corners were not worn away by tears after parting,

    and here my heart remains with me after separation.

  2. ردَدتُ كأسَ غَرامي وهيَ مترعةٌ

    كَما سقيتُ بِها صِرفاً عَلى الساقي

    I returned the cup of my passion, still brimming,

    to the cupbearer, just as I had been served unmixed wine in it.

  3. وصارَ قَلبيَ لا يَشتاقُ مُذ حكمَت

    يدُ الملامَةِ فيهِ غيرَ مُشتاقِ

    And my heart no longer yearns, ever since

    the hand of reproach ruled over it, leaving it without longing.

  4. لا تَفزَعنَّ إلى غَير النَّوى أَبداً

    فَما لِداءِ الهَوى غَيرُ النوى راقِ

    Never seek refuge in anything but separation,

    for love's sickness has no healer but separation.

  5. قَتيلُ همَّتِه في الناسِ أعذرُ من

    قَتيلِ تَكسيرِ أجفانٍ وأَحداقِ

    One slain by his own ambition is more excusable among people than

    one slain by the languid play of eyelids and pupils.

  6. وفاترِ الطَّرفِ مَفتونٍ بِه سَقمٌ

    كأنَّ جِسمي لَه مِن ضرِّه واقِ

    And a languid-eyed one with whom sickness is smitten—

    as though my body were his shield against its harm.

  7. أقمتُ في أَسرِه ما شاءَ ناظرُه

    حتَّى أَتى شَعرُ خَدَّيهِ بإطلاقي

    I remained in his captivity as long as his eye wished,

    until the hair on his cheeks brought my release.

  8. إن كنتُ أشفَقتُ من خَطبِ النَّوى جَزَعاً

    فقَد أراكَ اعتِرافي فَرطَ إشفاقي

    If I feared the calamity of separation in anguish,

    then my confession has shown you how great my fear was.

  9. لا يَحسبُ الصرفُ أنِّي عَن طَوارِقِه

    أَعمى إِذا ما رَأى عَنهنَّ إِطراقي

    Let fate not think me, in the face of its visitations,

    blind, when it sees my gaze lowered away from them.

  10. فَللتَّصاريفِ أوقاتٌ أواخِرُها

    تَنَجُّزي صَرفَها مِن كفِّ إِسحاقِ

    For fate's vicissitudes have their times, which end

    when I ask Ishaq's hand to turn them away.

  11. يَدٌ تُفيدُ النَّدى والمَجد مَن لَقِيَت

    حتَّى تَكاد تُساويها يدُ اللاقي

    A hand that bestows bounty and glory on whoever it meets,

    until the hand of the one who meets it almost equals it.

  12. يَغدو وقائِمُ سَيفِ المَجدِ يَملؤُها

    فَيَنثَني عَن دَمٍ للبُخلِ مُهراقِ

    He sets out in the morning, the hilt of glory's sword filling his hand,

    then turns back from the spilled blood of miserliness.