الصِّبَا وَالجَـمَالُ مُـلْكُ يَدَيْـكِ
أيُّ تَـاجٍ أعَـزُّ مِـنْ تَاجَيْـكِ
Youth and Beauty, met in one,
Are thy kingdom, thine alone;
And was ever crown more fair
Than the crown which thou dost wear?
نَصَبَ الحُسْـنُ عَرْشَـهُ فَسَـألنَا
مَنْ تُـرَاهَا لـَهُ فَـدَلَّ عَلَيْـكِ
Loveliness upon a time
Lifted up a throne sublime:
“Who shall sit thereon?” asked we,
And he pointed, love, to thee.
فَاسْـكُبِي روحَكِ الحَنـونَ عَلَيْهِ
كَانْسِـكَابِ السَمَاءِ فِي عَيْنَيْـكِ
Let thy gentle spirit now
O’er thy kingdom softly flow,
As the cerulean skies
Flow serenely in thine eyes.
كُلَّمَا نَافَـسَ الصِّـبَا بِجَـمَالٍ
عَبْقَـريِّ السَّـنَا نَمَّـاهُ إلَيْـكِ
Whensoever Youth displays
Beauty all in glory’s blaze,
Vaunting wondrous brilliancy,
Youth attributes all to thee
مَـا تَغَنّـى الـهزارُ إلاّ لِيُلْقِـي
زَفـرَاتِ الغَـرَامِ فِـي أُذُنَيْـكِ
Never plangent nightingale
Sang sad music in the dale
But he poured his passionate sighs
In thy ear, to sympathize
سَكِـرَ الرَّوضُ سَكْـرَةً صَرَعَتْهُ
عِنْدَ مَجْرَى العَبِيـر مِنْ نَهـْدَيْكِ
Through the fragrant afternoons
Lo, the prostate garden swoons
With the frankincense expressed
From thy soft and tender breast
قَتَلَ الوَرْدُ نَفْسَـهُ حَسَداً مِنْـكِ
وَألْقَـى دِمَـاهُ فِـي وَجْنَتَيْـكِ
And the rose, that sought in vain
Thy rare beauty to attain,
Slays herself in jealous mood
To suffuse thy cheeks with blood
وَالفَرَاشَـاتُ مَلَّـتِ الـزَّهرُ لَمَّا
حَدَّثَتْـهَا الأنْسَامُ عَنْ شَـفَتَيْكِ
And the amorous butterflies
Now their favourite flowers despise,
Since the warm breeze of the south
Whispered to them of thy mouth
رَفَعُـوا مِنْـكِ للجَمَـالِ إلَـهاً
وَانْحَنَوْا سُجَّـداً عَلَى قَدَمَيْـكِ
Men have raised thy image there
To embody Beauty fair,
And in reverence complete
Fall adoring at thy feet.
