لَها مِنَ الماءِ كَفٌّ في أَنامِلِها

لَها مِنَ الماءِ كَفٌّ في أَنامِلِها

إِذْ صافَحَتْني بِهِ نارٌ عَلَى وَهَجِ

إِذْ صافَحَتْني بِهِ نارٌ عَلَى وَهَجِ

She has a hand of water; in her fingertips,

Her hand holds water as she extends her fingers

when she clasped my hand with it, there was a blazing fire.

When she shook my hand, fire blazed in fervor

تَكادُ مِنْ لَمَعانِ الحُسْنِ تَسْتُرُهُ

تَكادُ مِنْ لَمَعانِ الحُسْنِ تَسْتُرُهُ

كأنَّما طَرَّفَتْهُ مِنْ دَمِ المُهَجِ

كأنَّما طَرَّفَتْهُ مِنْ دَمِ المُهَجِ

It almost conceals the hand with beauty’s radiance,

Her dazzling beauty almost conceals it

as though she had dyed its tips with the blood of hearts.

As if she adorned it with blood from her wrists