عُلِّقتُهُ كَالسَّيفِ راعَ بَهَاؤُهُ

عُلِّقتُهُ كَالسَّيفِ راعَ بَهَاؤُهُ

لكِن بِغَيرِ جَوَانِحِي لم يُغمَدِ

لكِن بِغَيرِ جَوَانِحِي لم يُغمَدِ

I fell in love with him—like a sword, his splendor awed me;

I hung it like a sword, its brightness dazzled,

yet nowhere but within my ribs was he sheathed.

But without my wings it would not be sheathed.

عافوا العذَارَ بِصَفحَتَيهِ وَما دَرَوا

عافوا العذَارَ بِصَفحَتَيهِ وَما دَرَوا

أنَّ الفِرندَ مِن كُلِّ مُهَنَّدِ

أنَّ الفِرندَ مِن كُلِّ مُهَنَّدِ

They spurned the down on his cheeks, not knowing

They excused the spearhead with its two edges, not knowing

that every Indian-steel sword bears a watered pattern.

That the blade is from every sharp sword.