صَحاsobered عَنِfrom اللَهوِrevelry صاحٍa sober man عافَهُhe spurned it خُلُقاًas a habit
صَحا عَنِ اللَهوِ صاحٍ عافَهُ خُلُقاً
فَقامَso he rose يَخلَعُcasting off سِربالاًa robe لَهُof his خَلَقاthreadbare
فَقامَ يَخلَعُ سِربالاً لَهُ خَلَقا
A sober man has awakened from revelry, spurning it as a habit,
The reveler awoke, a man refined,
So he rose to cast off a threadbare robe of his.
And rose to doff his cloak, a thing sublime,
وَعَطَّلَand he left unused الكَأسَthe cup مِنof شَقراءَgolden-hued wine سابِحَةٍswimming (like a galloping mare)
وَعَطَّلَ الكَأسَ مِن شَقراءَ سابِحَةٍ
أَلاah كَفاهاwas enough for her بِرَيعانِin the bloom of الصِباyouth طَلَقاa gallop
أَلا كَفاها بِرَيعانِ الصِبا طَلَقا
And he left the cup bereft of its golden swimmer—
He passed the wine, though freely it had flowed
Ah, she had galloped enough in the bloom of youth!
In youth's bright morn, and that sufficed for time.
وَرُبَّand many a لَيلَةِnight وَصلٍof union قَدindeed لَهَوتُI revelled بِهاin it
وَرُبَّ لَيلَةِ وَصلٍ قَد لَهَوتُ بِها
مُغازِلاًwooing قَلِقاًrestless أَوor شارِباًdrinking شَفَقاthe red glow of dusk
مُغازِلاً قَلِقاً أَو شارِباً شَفَقا
And many a night of union have I revelled in,
Full many a night of love my heart has glowed,
Wooing restlessly, or drinking the red glow of dusk.
Toying, awake, or slumbering past prime,
لاnot نَنثُرُwe scatter الدُرَّthe pearls فيهِin it بَينَناbetween us كَلِماًas words
لا نَنثُرُ الدُرَّ فيهِ بَينَنا كَلِماً
حَتّىuntil أُقَبِّلُهُI kiss them مِنfrom مَبسَمٍa smiling mouth نَسَقاin a row
حَتّى أُقَبِّلُهُ مِن مَبسَمٍ نَسَقا
In that union, we scatter no pearls between us as words,
We will not strew our pearls before the swine
Until I kiss them, in a row, from a smiling mouth.
Until I've kissed his lips in raptured rhyme.
وَرُبَّand many a غُرَّةٍradiant face عَبرىtearful قَدindeed شَرَقتُI choked بِهاover it
وَرُبَّ غُرَّةٍ عَبرى قَد شَرَقتُ بِها
فيat مَوقِفٍa standing-place لِلنَوىfor parting أَضرَمتُهُI set it ablaze حُرَقاwith burning pangs
في مَوقِفٍ لِلنَوى أَضرَمتُهُ حُرَقا
And many a tearful, radiant face has made me choke,
And many a bright-cheeked beauty have I eyed
At a place of parting I set ablaze with anguish.
At trysts which for the pine did pant and pine,
تَخالُyou would think ماwhat اِحمَرَّturned red مِنof خَدَّيهِhis two cheeks مُلتَهِباًaflame
تَخالُ ما اِحمَرَّ مِن خَدَّيهِ مُلتَهِباً
بِهاwith them (the pangs) وَماand what اِسوَدَّturned black مِنof صُدغَيهِhis two temples مُحتَرِقاcharred
بِها وَما اِسوَدَّ مِن صُدغَيهِ مُحتَرِقا
You would think the red of his cheeks aflame
Seeming as if his glowing cheeks were dyed
With that anguish, and the black at his temples charred.
By her, as black as jet his mole divine.
Sol 6.1