وَنَارَنْجٍ تَميلُ بِهِ غُصُونٌ

وَنَارَنْجٍ تَميلُ بِهِ غُصُونٌ

فَيَغْدُو مَيْلُها كَالصَّوْلَجانِ

فَيَغْدُو مَيْلُها كَالصَّوْلَجانِ

And bitter-orange fruit makes boughs bend,

With orange blossoms its branches sway

So their curve becomes like a polo mallet.

And bend as dancers in disarray

أُشَبِّهُهُ ثَدَايا ناهِداتٍ

أُشَبِّهُهُ ثَدَايا ناهِداتٍ

غَلائِلُها صُبِغْنَ بِزَعْفَرانِ

غَلائِلُها صُبِغْنَ بِزَعْفَرانِ

I liken it to full, rounded breasts,

Like maidens with their braided hair

Whose sheer garments have been dyed with saffron.

In saffron dyed, no garment bare