خُذهاtake it إِلَيكَto yourself وَإِنَّهاand indeed it لَنَضيرَةٌis truly fresh
خُذها إِلَيكَ وَإِنَّها لَنَضيرَةٌ
طَرَأَتit has arrived عَلَيكَupon you قَليلَةَhaving few النُظَراءِequals
طَرَأَت عَلَيكَ قَليلَةَ النُظَراءِ
Take it to yourself: it is indeed fresh and fair,
Coming to you with few equals.
حَمَلَتit bore وَحَسبُكَand enough for you بَهجَةٌdelight مِنfrom نَفحَةٍa fragrant breath
حَمَلَت وَحَسبُكَ بَهجَةٌ مِن نَفحَةٍ
عَبَقَthe fragrance of العَروسِthe bride وَخَجلَةَand the blush of العَذراءِthe virgin
عَبَقَ العَروسِ وَخَجلَةَ العَذراءِ
It bears—and a fragrant breath is joy enough for you—
A bride's perfume and a virgin's blush,
مِنfrom كُلِّeach وارِسَةِyellow-dyed القَميصِthe tunic كَأَنَّماas though
مِن كُلِّ وارِسَةِ القَميصِ كَأَنَّما
نَشَأَتit grew up تُعَلُّbeing repeatedly given drink بِريقَةِwith the saliva of الصَفراءِthe yellow wine
نَشَأَت تُعَلُّ بِريقَةِ الصَفراءِ
From each yellow-robed one, as though
Raised on repeated draughts of yellow wine's saliva.
نَجَمَتhave risen تَروقُdelighting the eye بِهاin it نُجومٌstars حَسبُهاenough for them
نَجَمَت تَروقُ بِها نُجومٌ حَسبُها
بِالأَيكَةِwith the grove الخَضراءِthe green مِنas خَضراءِa green heaven
بِالأَيكَةِ الخَضراءِ مِن خَضراءِ
Stars have risen, lovely there; for them
The green grove is heaven enough.
وَأَتَتكَand it came to you تُسفِرُlifting the veil عَنfrom وُجوهٍfaces طَلقَةٍcheerful
وَأَتَتكَ تُسفِرُ عَن وُجوهٍ طَلقَةٍ
وَتَنوبُand it stands in مِنthrough لُطفٍgrace عَنfor السُفَراءِthe envoys
وَتَنوبُ مِن لُطفٍ عَن السُفَراءِ
And it has come to you, unveiling cheerful faces,
And through its grace stands in for envoys.
يَندىgrows dewy بِهاthrough it وَجهُthe face of النَدِيِّthe gathering وَرُبَّماand sometimes
يَندى بِها وَجهُ النَدِيِّ وَرُبَّما
بَسَطَتit spread هُناكَthere أَسِرَّةَthe smiling features of السَرّاءِgladness
بَسَطَت هُناكَ أَسِرَّةَ السَرّاءِ
Through it the gathering's face grows dewy, and sometimes
It spreads the smiling features of gladness there.
فَاِستَضحَكَتso it made smile وَجهَthe face of الدُجىthe darkness مَقطوعَةٌa short poem
فَاِستَضحَكَت وَجهَ الدُجى مَقطوعَةٌ
جَمُلَتit was beautiful جَمالَwith the beauty of الغُرَّةِthe white forehead-blaze الغَرّاءِthe radiant
جَمُلَت جَمالَ الغُرَّةِ الغَرّاءِ
So a short poem made the face of darkness smile,
Lovely as the radiant white blaze upon a brow.
Sol 6.1