وَلا زَوَردِيَّةٍ تَزهو بِزُرقَتِها

وَلا زَوَردِيَّةٍ تَزهو بِزُرقَتِها

بَينَ الرِياضِ عَلى حُمرِ اليَواقيتِ

بَينَ الرِياضِ عَلى حُمرِ اليَواقيتِ

And a lapis-blue flower glories in its blueness,

Without turquoise's pride of hue

Amid the gardens, above the red rubies;

Among gardens over corals strewn;

كَأَنَّها وَرِقاقُ القُضبِ تَحمِلُها

كَأَنَّها وَرِقاقُ القُضبِ تَحمِلُها

أَوائِلُ النارِ في أَطرافِ كِبريتِ

أَوائِلُ النارِ في أَطرافِ كِبريتِ

As though it, borne by slender stems,

As though they were leaves that carry dew,

Were the first flickers of fire at sulfur’s tips.

Dropped from the rose's early bloom.