بنفسي مريضُ الطرفِ والودِّ لم يَدَعْ

بنفسي مريضُ الطرفِ والودِّ لم يَدَعْ

لعاشقِهِ قلباً صحيحاً ولا عَقْلا

لعاشقِهِ قلباً صحيحاً ولا عَقْلا

My soul be his ransom—languid in gaze and ailing in love, he has left

With a sickly glance and affection undiminished

His lover neither a sound heart nor reason.

He left no heart whole nor intellect to his lover.

إذا ما سقاني كأسَ عينيهِ في الهوى

إذا ما سقاني كأسَ عينيهِ في الهوى

فحسبيَ ما في فيهِ من سُكَّرٍ نُقلا

فحسبيَ ما في فيهِ من سُكَّرٍ نُقلا

When he gives me the cup of his eyes to drink in love,

When he let me drink from the cup of his eyes in passion

Then the sugar in his mouth is sweetmeat enough for me.

Sufficient for me what sugar therein he poured.