تجردَ من أثوابِه الرَشأُ الذي

تجردَ من أثوابِه الرَشأُ الذي

ألمَّ بقلبي من غرَامه ما ألَم

ألمَّ بقلبي من غرَامه ما ألَم

The young gazelle stripped off his clothes—the one

The youth who caused my heart such anguish when he was stripped of his robes,

Through love for whom my heart suffered what it suffered.

His slender form contends with the bough of a willow,

فضارعَ غصنَ البانِ عادلُ قَدِّهِ

فضارعَ غصنَ البانِ عادلُ قَدِّهِ

وفي وجهِه الوضَّاءِ ضارعَ بَدرَ تَم

وفي وجهِه الوضَّاءِ ضارعَ بَدرَ تَم

So his well-proportioned figure resembled a bān-tree branch,

And his luminous face contends with the full moon.

And in his radiant face he resembled the moon at its full.

I understood by his embrace he would quench my grief,

فَهِمتُ بِضميهِ لإِطفاءِ لَوعَتي

فَهِمتُ بِضميهِ لإِطفاءِ لَوعَتي

وَهَل عِند تَجريدِ المُضارعِ لا يُضَم

وَهَل عِند تَجريدِ المُضارعِ لا يُضَم

So I yearned to embrace him, to quench my burning anguish.

Does not the one who strips himself bare also offer an embrace?

And when the ‘resembling one’ is stripped bare, is he not embraced?