1. يا مَلِكا قَد أَصبَحت كَفُّهُ

    ساخِرَةً بِالعارِضِ الهاطِلِ

    O king whose hand has become

    scornful of the rain-pouring cloud,

  2. قَد أَقحَمَتني مِنهُ مِثلُها

    يُضَيِّق القَولَ عَلى القائِل

    such a hand of his has left me at a loss;

    it leaves the speaker little scope for speech.

  3. وَإِن أَكُن قَصّرت عَن وَصفِها

    فَحُسنُها عَن وَصفِها شاغِلي

    And if I have fallen short of describing it,

    for its beauty distracts me from describing it.