هَلْis there? للقلوبِfor hearts منfrom العيونِthe eyes مَلاذُa refuge
هَلْ للقلوبِ من العيونِ مَلاذُ
ولهاand they have علىover مكنونِهاtheir hidden depths اسْتِحواذُdominion
ولها على مكنونِها اسْتِحواذُ
Have hearts any refuge from the eyes,
Do hearts find solace in eyes,
While the eyes hold sway over what hearts conceal?
And have power over their secrets?
هيهاتَfar from it ماnot سُلَّتْwere unsheathed شفارُblades لواحظٍof glances
هيهاتَ ما سُلَّتْ شفارُ لواحظٍ
إِلاَّexcept that تَثَنَّتْthey bent back والقلوبُand the hearts حِذاذُshreds
إِلاَّ تَثَنَّتْ والقلوبُ حِذاذُ
Far from it! The blades of glances are never unsheathed
Alas! No coquette's lips have smiled
Without bending back and leaving hearts in shreds.
Except with hearts torn, shredded, gashed.
لاdo not ترسلَنَّever loose سهامَthe arrows لَحْظِكَof your glance جاهِداًstraining
لا ترسلَنَّ سهامَ لَحْظِكَ جاهِداً
إِنَّindeed المنيَّةَdeath سَيْرُهاits progress إِغْذاذُhaste
إِنَّ المنيَّةَ سَيْرُها إِغْذاذُ
Do not strain to loose the arrows of your glance;
Do not loose your glances' arrows relentlessly,
For death makes haste along its course.
For death's course is to snatch away life.
ومنَand among العجائِبِthe wonders أَنَّthat خَدِّيmy cheek مُجْدِبٌbarren
ومنَ العجائِبِ أَنَّ خَدِّي مُجْدِبٌ
وعليهand upon it منfrom سَيْلِthe torrent الدموعِof tears رَذَاذُspray
وعليه من سَيْلِ الدموعِ رَذَاذُ
And it is a wonder that my cheek is barren,
Of wonders: my cheek is withered
Yet spray from the torrent of tears falls upon it.
While tears rain on it in torrents.
ياO راميًاone shooting كَبِدِيmy liver بِنَبْلِwith the arrows جفونِهof his eyelids
يا راميًا كَبِدِي بِنَبْلِ جفونِه
خَفِّضْease up عليكَon yourself فإِنَّهاfor it is أَفلاذُpieces
خَفِّضْ عليكَ فإِنَّها أَفلاذُ
O archer who shoots my liver with his eyelids’ arrows,
O you who pierce my liver with your eyelids' arrows,
Ease up, for it is in pieces.
Be gentle, for it is unarmed.
ومليحةِand a lovely woman الأَوصافِfeatures حَسَّنَهاbeautified her الصِّباyouth
ومليحةِ الأَوصافِ حَسَّنَها الصِّبا
والتِّيهُand proud coquetry لاnot دِيباجُهاher brocade واللاَّذُand fine silk
والتِّيهُ لا دِيباجُها واللاَّذُ
And a woman of lovely features, made beautiful by youth
The morning breeze beautified the lovely one
And proud coquetry—not by her brocade and fine silk.
Whose wandering knows no finery or delight.
فيin طَرْفِهاher gaze الأَحْوَىdark تَأَنُّقُexquisite artistry بابلٍBabylon
في طَرْفِها الأَحْوَى تَأَنُّقُ بابلٍ
نَفَّاثُbreathing forth سِحْرٍmagic فيin الحشاthe breast نَفَّاذُpiercing
نَفَّاثُ سِحْرٍ في الحشا نَفَّاذُ
In her dark gaze lies Babylon’s exquisite art:
In her intoxicating eyes is magic from Babylon,
It breathes magic, piercing deep into the breast.
Bewitchment breathing into hearts penetrated.
رقَّتْshe grew tender جفوناًeyelids فَهْيَso she is ماءٌwater دافقٌgushing
رقَّتْ جفوناً فَهْيَ ماءٌ دافقٌ
وقَسَتْand she grew hard فؤادًاheart دُونَهُsofter than it الفولاذُsteel
وقَسَتْ فؤادًا دُونَهُ الفولاذُ
Soft of eyelid, she is gushing water;
Her lids shed water generously flowing,
Yet hard of heart—steel is softer than it.
And steeled the heart they left behind.
Sol 6.1