وَمُعتادَةٍ لِلطيبِ لَيسَت تُغِبُّهُ

وَمُعتادَةٍ لِلطيبِ لَيسَت تُغِبُّهُ

مُنَعَّمَةِ الأَطرافِ تَدمى مِنَ اللَمسِ

مُنَعَّمَةِ الأَطرافِ تَدمى مِنَ اللَمسِ

And a woman accustomed to perfume, never skipping a day,

Accustomed to perfume, it does not fail her,

Tender-limbed, she bleeds at a touch.

Of soft limbs that ache from a touch.

إِذا ما دُخانُ النَدَ مِن ثَوبِها عَلا

إِذا ما دُخانُ النَدَ مِن ثَوبِها عَلا

عَلى وَجهِها أَبصَرتَ غَيماً عَلى شَمسِ

عَلى وَجهِها أَبصَرتَ غَيماً عَلى شَمسِ

When incense smoke rises from her robe

When the smoke of musk rises from her clothes,

Over her face, you see a cloud over a sun.

You see a cloud over the sun on her face.