The mine is now no fitting home for gem of lustrous ray.
Thy tresses fall across thy cheek in many a twisting curl,
"To dance to Hijaz have the Shamis tucked their skirts," we'd say.
Let both the youthful pine and cypress view thy motions fair;
The gardener now to rear the willow need no more assay.
The dark and cloudy-brained of men thine eyebrows black depict,
While those of keen, discerning wit thy glistening teeth portray.
Before thy cheek the rose and jasmine bowed in sujud,
The cypress to thy figure in qiyam did homage pay.
The heart's throne is the seat of that great monarch, love for thee;