كَانَwas اللِّقَاءُthe meeting عَلَىon رِيَاضٍgardens مُمْرِعِlush
كَانَ اللِّقَاءُ عَلَى رِيَاضٍ مُمْرِعِ
وَكَأَنَّنِيand as though I بَيْنَamong السَّحَابِthe clouds بِمَرْبَعِin a springtime abode
وَكَأَنَّنِي بَيْنَ السَّحَابِ بِمَرْبَعِ
The meeting took place in lush gardens,
The meeting was in a verdant meadow,
And it was as though I dwelt among the clouds in a springtime abode.
As if I were amidst clouds in an enclosure,
وَالأُفْقُand the horizon صَارَbecame مُقَيَّدًاbound بِجَوَانِحِيto my ribs
وَالأُفْقُ صَارَ مُقَيَّدًا بِجَوَانِحِي
وَكَأَنَّنِيand as though I مَلِكُking of النُّجُومِthe stars الطُّلَّعِrising
وَكَأَنَّنِي مَلِكُ النُّجُومِ الطُّلَّعِ
And the horizon became bound to my ribs,
The horizon became confined by my wings,
And it was as though I were king of the rising stars.
As if I were the king of radiant stars.
وَالْبَدْرُand the full moon صَارَbecame سَنَاهُits radiance رَهْنَpledged to لِقَائِنَاour meeting
وَالْبَدْرُ صَارَ سَنَاهُ رَهْنَ لِقَائِنَا
فَالْكَوْنُso the universe فِيin الظُّلُمَاتِthe darkness إِلَّاexcept مَوْضِعِيmy place
فَالْكَوْنُ فِي الظُّلُمَاتِ إِلَّا مَوْضِعِي
And the full moon's radiance became pledged to our meeting,
The full moon became captive to our meeting,
So the universe lay in darkness, save for where I was.
So the universe was in darkness except my place.
فَأَخَذْتُso I began أَحْتَضِنُI embrace السِّهَامَthe arrows كَأَنَّنِيas though I
فَأَخَذْتُ أَحْتَضِنُ السِّهَامَ كَأَنَّنِي
وَسَطَamid الْوَغَىthe battle أَلْقَيْتُI cast off كُلَّall الأَدْرُعِthe coats of armor
وَسَطَ الْوَغَى أَلْقَيْتُ كُلَّ الأَدْرُعِ
So I began embracing the arrows, as though I
I began to embrace the arrows as if
Had cast off all armor in the midst of battle.
Amidst the chaos, I had shed all armor.
وَالسَّهْمُand the arrow مَاwhenever يُصِبِstrikes الْفُؤَادَthe heart فَإِنَّهُthen indeed it
وَالسَّهْمُ مَا يُصِبِ الْفُؤَادَ فَإِنَّهُ
يَهَبُbestows الدُّنَىthe worlds أَزْكَىpurest دَمٍblood مُتَضَوِّعِexuding fragrance
يَهَبُ الدُّنَى أَزْكَى دَمٍ مُتَضَوِّعِ
And whenever the arrow strikes the heart, it
The arrow that strikes the heart, verily it
Bestows upon the worlds the purest blood, exuding fragrance—
Gives the world the most precious spilled blood.
دَمِblood of عَاشِقٍa lover كَانَwas الرَّنَاgazing هُوَit حُلْمَهُhis dream
دَمِ عَاشِقٍ كَانَ الرَّنَا هُوَ حُلْمَهُ
فَإِذَاthen behold الرَّنَاgazing مِلْكٌa possession لِقَلْبٍto a heart قَدْalready نُعِيwas mourned as dead
فَإِذَا الرَّنَا مِلْكٌ لِقَلْبٍ قَدْ نُعِي
The blood of a lover whose dream had been a gaze;
The blood of a lover whose dream was delight,
Then behold: that gaze belongs to a heart already mourned as dead.
So when delight is owned by a heart it was lamented.
فَإِذَاthen behold الْحَيَاةُlife تَعُودُreturns لِلْقَلْبِto the heart الشَّجِيsorrowful
فَإِذَا الْحَيَاةُ تَعُودُ لِلْقَلْبِ الشَّجِي
وَيَصِيرُand becomes نَبْعًاa wellspring لِلْقَرِيضِfor poetry الْمُمْتِعِdelightful
وَيَصِيرُ نَبْعًا لِلْقَرِيضِ الْمُمْتِعِ
Then behold, life returns to the sorrowful heart,
Thus life returns to the most ecstatic heart,
And it becomes a wellspring of delightful verse.
And becomes a spring for the inspired poem.
فَتَصِيرُso she becomes مُلْهِمَةَthe muse of الْخَلِيِّthe carefree man بِشِعْرِهِin his poetry
فَتَصِيرُ مُلْهِمَةَ الْخَلِيِّ بِشِعْرِهِ
فَيَرَىso sees الْوَرَىhumankind: مَاno قَبْلَهُbefore him مِنْany مُبْدِعِcreative artist
فَيَرَى الْوَرَى: مَا قَبْلَهُ مِنْ مُبْدِعِ
So she becomes the carefree man's muse in his verse,
It becomes the inspiration of the composer through his poetry,
So humankind sees: no creative artist came before him.
Thus the world sees what came before it was created.
هِيَshe غُنْوَةٌa song كُتِبَتْwas written بِقَلْبِيin my heart لَحْنُهَاits melody
هِيَ غُنْوَةٌ كُتِبَتْ بِقَلْبِي لَحْنُهَا
شَوْقُlonging الْحَنَايَاthe breast's folds نَغْمَةٌa melody لَمْnot تُسْمَعِwas heard
شَوْقُ الْحَنَايَا نَغْمَةٌ لَمْ تُسْمَعِ
She is a song inscribed in my heart; its melody
It is the rhythm composed in my heart, its melody never heard,
Is the longing of the breast—a tune never heard.
Yearning sighs are a tune never perceived.
هِيَshe قِصَّةٌa tale فِيin كُلِّevery حَرْفٍletter سَكْرَةٌintoxication
هِيَ قِصَّةٌ فِي كُلِّ حَرْفٍ سَكْرَةٌ
كَالْحُلْمِlike a dream يَحْكِيrecounts لَذَّةًpleasure لَمْnot تُقْمَعِwas stifled
كَالْحُلْمِ يَحْكِي لَذَّةً لَمْ تُقْمَعِ
She is a tale, with rapture in every letter,
It is a story in every intoxicating letter,
Like a dream telling of pleasure never stifled.
Like a dream telling of an unmatched bliss.
هِيَshe فَرْحَةٌa joy تَمْحُوerases الْأَسَىsorrow بِضِيَائِهَاwith her radiance
هِيَ فَرْحَةٌ تَمْحُو الْأَسَى بِضِيَائِهَا
كَالشَّمْسِlike the sun تَبْدُوappears بَعْدَafter لَيْلٍa night مُتْرَعِbrimming full
كَالشَّمْسِ تَبْدُو بَعْدَ لَيْلٍ مُتْرَعِ
She is a joy that erases sorrow with her radiance,
It is a joy that wipes away sorrow with its light,
Like the sun appearing after a night filled to the brim.
Like the emerging sun after a gloomy night.
هِيَshe دَمْعَةُthe tear of الْأَشْوَاقِlongings وَالْفَرَحِand joy الَّتِيthat
هِيَ دَمْعَةُ الْأَشْوَاقِ وَالْفَرَحِ الَّتِي
جَعَلَتْmade مَرَارَthe bitterness of الدَّمْعِtears عَذْبَsweet الْمَدْمَعِthe tear's source
جَعَلَتْ مَرَارَ الدَّمْعِ عَذْبَ الْمَدْمَعِ
She is the tear of longings and joy that
It is the tear of longing and joy
Made the bitterness of tears sweet at their source.
That made the bitterness of tears sweet elixir.
هِيَshe بَدْرُthe full moon of لَيْلٍa night مُظْلِمٍdark قَدْindeed أَشْرَقَتْshe shone forth
هِيَ بَدْرُ لَيْلٍ مُظْلِمٍ قَدْ أَشْرَقَتْ
جَعَلَتْهُshe made it لَيْلاًa night مُشْرِقًاradiant لَمْnot يَطْلُعِhad appeared
جَعَلَتْهُ لَيْلاً مُشْرِقًا لَمْ يَطْلُعِ
She is the full moon of a dark night; she has shone forth,
It is the full moon of a dark night that shone,
And made it a radiant night that had never appeared.
Making the night a luminous one that never rose.
هِيَshe دِيمَةٌa steady rain جَعَلَتْmade فُؤَادِيmy heart جَنَّةًa garden
هِيَ دِيمَةٌ جَعَلَتْ فُؤَادِي جَنَّةً
قَدْalready كَانَwas قَفْرًاa wasteland كَالصَّحَارِيlike the deserts الْبَلْقَعِbarren
قَدْ كَانَ قَفْرًا كَالصَّحَارِي الْبَلْقَعِ
She is a steady rain that made my heart a garden,
It is a beauty that made my heart into a paradise,
Which had been wasteland, like the barren deserts.
When it once was a barren desert.
هِيَshe بَسْمَةٌa smile يَغْزُوinvades ضِيَاهَاher radiance الْكَوْنَthe universe، إِنْif
هِيَ بَسْمَةٌ يَغْزُو ضِيَاهَا الْكَوْنَ، إِنْ
غَابَتْshe vanished، عَرَاهُovertook it لَوْعةُthe anguish of الْمُتَفَجِّعِthe grief-stricken one
غَابَتْ، عَرَاهُ لَوْعةُ الْمُتَفَجِّعِ
She is a smile whose radiance invades the universe; if
It is a smile whose light fills the universe, if
She vanishes, a mourner's anguish overtakes it.
It's gone, it's loss fills it with the bereaved's agony.
كَمْhow many أَطْرَبَتْنِيenraptured me مِنْof حِكَايَةِa tale عَاشِقٍa lover
كَمْ أَطْرَبَتْنِي مِنْ حِكَايَةِ عَاشِقٍ
فَعَلِمْتُso I knew أَنَّthat سِوَايَother than me كُلٌّeveryone يَدَّعِيpretends
فَعَلِمْتُ أَنَّ سِوَايَ كُلٌّ يَدَّعِي
How many a lover's tale has enraptured me!
How many tales of lovers intoxicated me,
Then I knew that everyone else was merely pretending.
Thus I knew all other claims were false.
أَنَاI عَاشِقٌa lover مَاnot كَانَexisted يَوْمًاever فِيamong الْوَرَىhumankind
أَنَا عَاشِقٌ مَا كَانَ يَوْمًا فِي الْوَرَى
أَحْكِيI recount الْهَوَىlove بِصَفَائِهِwith its purity الْمُتَوَرِّعِpiously restrained
أَحْكِي الْهَوَى بِصَفَائِهِ الْمُتَوَرِّعِ
I am a lover such as never lived among humankind;
I am a lover that was never in this world
I recount love in its chaste purity.
Telling of love in its reticent sincerity.
أَحْكِيI recount حِكَايَةَthe tale of عَاشِقٍa lover مُتَوَلِّهٍdistraught with love
أَحْكِي حِكَايَةَ عَاشِقٍ مُتَوَلِّهٍ
حَتَّىuntil ظَنَنْتُI thought الْعِشْقَpassionate love فِيهِin it مَصْرَعِيmy death
حَتَّى ظَنَنْتُ الْعِشْقَ فِيهِ مَصْرَعِي
I tell the tale of a lover crazed with passion,
I tell the tale of a devoted lover
Until I thought that my death lay in love.
To the point I thought love would be my demise.
Sol 6.1