سَقىmay water الغَيثُthe rain أَطلالَthe ruined dwellings of الأَحِبَّةِthe loved ones بِالحِمىin the sanctuary
سَقى الغَيثُ أَطلالَ الأَحِبَّةِ بِالحِمى
وَحاكَand weave عَلَيهاupon them ثَوبَa robe of وَشيٍbrocade مُنَمنَماfinely patterned
وَحاكَ عَلَيها ثَوبَ وَشيٍ مُنَمنَما
May the rain water the loved ones' ruined dwellings in the sanctuary,
The rain quenched the ruins of the loved ones with passion
And weave upon them a robe of finely patterned brocade,
And wove upon it a dress of delicate fabric
وَأَطلَعَand bring forth فيهاin them لِلأَزاهيرِfor the blossoms أَنجُماstars
وَأَطلَعَ فيها لِلأَزاهيرِ أَنجُما
فَكَمfor how often رَفَلَتtrailed their robes فيهاin them الخَرائِدُthe maidens كَالدُمىlike figurines
فَكَم رَفَلَت فيها الخَرائِدُ كَالدُمى
And bring forth stars of blossoms there;
And made flowers within it sprout like stars
For how often maidens trailed their robes there like figurines,
So many partridges fluttered in it like blood
إِذِwhen العَيشُlife غَضٌّfresh وَالزَمانُand time غُلامُa boy
إِذِ العَيشُ غَضٌّ وَالزَمانُ غُلامُ
أَهيمُI am love-mad بِجَبّارٍfor a tyrant يَعِزُّstands proud وَأَخضَعُand I submit
أَهيمُ بِجَبّارٍ يَعِزُّ وَأَخضَعُ
When life was fresh and time was a boy.
When life was tender and time a youth
I am love-mad for a tyrant who stands proud while I bow;
I roam with an obstinate one who is mighty and I am subdued
شَذاthe fragrance of المِسكِmusk مِنfrom أَردانِهِhis sleeves يَتَضَوَّعُwafts
شَذا المِسكِ مِن أَردانِهِ يَتَضَوَّعُ
إِذاwhen جِئتُI come أَشكوهُI complain to him الجَوىlove's torment لَيسَdoes not يَسمَعُlisten
إِذا جِئتُ أَشكوهُ الجَوى لَيسَ يَسمَعُ
The fragrance of musk wafts from his sleeves.
The musk wafts from his soft skin
When I come to complain to him of love's torment, he does not listen.
When I come to complain of passion he does not listen
فَماso not أَناI فيfor شَيءٍanything مِنَof الوَصلِunion أَطمَعُhope
فَما أَنا في شَيءٍ مِنَ الوَصلِ أَطمَعُ
وَلاnor أَنthat يَزورَshould visit المُقلَتَينِthe two eyes مَنامُsleep
وَلا أَن يَزورَ المُقلَتَينِ مَنامُ
So I have no hope of any union,
I do not hope for any union with him
Nor of sleep visiting my two eyes.
Or that sleep will visit my two eyelids
قَضَيبٌa sprig مِنَof الرَيحانِsweet basil أَثمَرَbore fruit بِالبَدرِwith the full moon
قَضَيبٌ مِنَ الرَيحانِ أَثمَرَ بِالبَدرِ
لَواحِظُthe glances of عَينَيهِhis two eyes مُلِئنَare filled مِنَwith السِحرِmagic
لَواحِظُ عَينَيهِ مُلِئنَ مِنَ السِحرِ
A sprig of sweet basil that has borne the full moon as fruit;
A twig of basil blossomed under the full moon
The glances of his eyes are filled with magic.
His roving eyes brimful of magic
وَديباجُand the brocade of خَدَّيهِhis two cheeks حَكىmirrors رَونَقَthe lustre of الخَمرِwine
وَديباجُ خَدَّيهِ حَكى رَونَقَ الخَمرِ
وَأَلفاظُهُand his words فيin النُطقِspeech كَاللُؤلُؤِlike pearls النَثرِscattered
وَأَلفاظُهُ في النُطقِ كَاللُؤلُؤِ النَثرِ
And the brocade of his cheeks mirrors the lustre of wine;
And the brocade of his cheeks tells of the grace of wine
And his words, when spoken, are like scattered pearls;
His words in speech like scattered pearls
وَريقَتُهُand his saliva فيin الإِرتِشافِsipping مُدامُwine
وَريقَتُهُ في الإِرتِشافِ مُدامُ
سَقىmay water جَنَباتِthe surroundings of القَصرِthe palace صَوبُthe rainfall of الغَمائِمِthe clouds
سَقى جَنَباتِ القَصرِ صَوبُ الغَمائِمِ
And his saliva, when sipped, is wine.
And his saliva in sipping is wine
May rain from the clouds water the palace grounds,
It watered the palace’s side, clouds overhanging
وَغَنّىand may sing عَلىon الأَغصانِthe branches وُرقُthe grey ones الحَمائِمِof the doves
وَغَنّى عَلى الأَغصانِ وُرقُ الحَمائِمِ
بِقُرطُبَةَin Córdoba الغَرّاءَthe radiant دارِabode of الأَكارِمِthe noble
بِقُرطُبَةَ الغَرّاءَ دارِ الأَكارِمِ
And may the grey doves sing upon the branches,
And sang to the branches as the doves' leaves rustled
In radiant Córdoba, abode of the noble;
With glorious Cordoba, abode of the generous
بِلادٌa land بِهاin it شَقَّtore الشَبابُyouth تَمائِميmy amulets
بِلادٌ بِها شَقَّ الشَبابُ تَمائِمي
وَأَنجَبَنيand begot me قَومٌa people هُناكَthere كِرامُnoble
وَأَنجَبَني قَومٌ هُناكَ كِرامُ
A land where youth tore my amulets asunder,
A land where my youth found its glory
And noble folk there begot me.
And a noble people begot me there
فَكَمfor how many لِيَfor me فيهاin it مِنof مَساءٍan evening وَإِصباحِand a morning
فَكَم لِيَ فيها مِن مَساءٍ وَإِصباحِ
بِكُلِّwith every غَزالٍgazelle مُشرِقِradiant الوَجهِof face وَضّاحِbright
بِكُلِّ غَزالٍ مُشرِقِ الوَجهِ وَضّاحِ
For how many evenings and mornings were mine there,
So many mornings and evenings I had
With each gazelle, bright and radiant of face,
With every bright-faced gazelle smiling
يُقَدِّمُoffers أَفواهَthe mouths of الكُؤوسِthe cups بِتُفّاحِwith apples
يُقَدِّمُ أَفواهَ الكُؤوسِ بِتُفّاحِ
إِذاwhen طَلَعَتrise فيin راحِهِhis palm أَنجُمُthe stars of الراحِwine
إِذا طَلَعَت في راحِهِ أَنجُمُ الراحِ
Offering the mouths of cups with apples;
Proffering the wine cups with apples
When the stars of wine rise in his palm,
When stars of comfort shone in their respite
فَإِنّاso indeed we لَإِعظامِin reverence for المُدامِwine قِيامُstand
فَإِنّا لَإِعظامِ المُدامِ قِيامُ
وَيَومٍand a day لَدىbeside النَبتِيِّal-Nabti فيon شاطِئِthe bank of النَهرِthe river
وَيَومٍ لَدى النَبتِيِّ في شاطِئِ النَهرِ
We stand in reverence for the wine.
For we rise to honor the flowing wine
And a day beside al-Nabti, on the riverbank,
And a day at the riverside park of the Nabateans
تُدارُis passed around عَلَيناto us الراحُwine فيamong فِتيَةٍyoung men زُهرِradiant
تُدارُ عَلَينا الراحُ في فِتيَةٍ زُهرِ
وَليسَand there is no لَناfor us فَرشٌbedding سِوىexcept يانِعِfully blooming الزَهرِflowers
وَليسَ لَنا فَرشٌ سِوى يانِعِ الزَهرِ
Wine is passed around to us amid radiant youths,
The cup circulated amidst blossoming youths
And we have no bedding but flowers in full bloom;
With no furnishings but the lush flowers
يَدورُgoes around بِهاwith it عَذبُsweet اللَمىthe lips' dark hue أَهيَفُslender الخَصرِof waist
يَدورُ بِها عَذبُ اللَمى أَهيَفُ الخَصرِ
بِفيهِin his mouth مِنَof الثَغرِthe teeth الشَنيبِgleaming white نِظامُa necklace
بِفيهِ مِنَ الثَغرِ الشَنيبِ نِظامُ
One with sweet, dusky lips and a slender waist goes round with it;
The slender waists moved about gracefully
In his mouth is a necklace of gleaming white teeth.
Their mouths like pearls in a string
وَيَومٍand a day بِجَوفِيِّon the northern side of الرَصافَةِal-Rusafa مُبهِجِdelightful
وَيَومٍ بِجَوفِيِّ الرَصافَةِ مُبهِجِ
مَرَرناwe passed بِرَوضِthrough a meadow of الأُقحُوانِdaisies المُدَبَّجِembroidered
مَرَرنا بِرَوضِ الأُقحُوانِ المُدَبَّجِ
And a delightful day on the northern side of al-Rusafa,
And the most blessed days of the kites’ return
We passed through an embroidered meadow of daisies,
And the frolic we etched into those robes
وَقابَلَناand met us فيهِin it نَسيمُthe breeze of البَنَفسَجِviolets
وَقابَلَنا فيهِ نَسيمُ البَنَفسَجِ
وَلاحَand appeared لَناto us وَردٌa rose كَخَدٍّlike a cheek مُضَرَّجِcrimson-flushed
وَلاحَ لَنا وَردٌ كَخَدٍّ مُضَرَّجِ
And a violet-scented breeze met us there,
The black and white patterned mantles
And a rose appeared to us like a crimson-flushed cheek;
When they were clad in those splendid robes
نَراهُwe see it أَمامَbefore النورِthe blossoms وَهوَand it is إِمامُa leader
نَراهُ أَمامَ النورِ وَهوَ إِمامُ
وَأَكرِمand how splendid بِأَيّامِthe days of العُقابِal-Uqab السَوالِفِbygone
وَأَكرِم بِأَيّامِ العُقابِ السَوالِفِ
We see it at the head of the blossoms, their leader.
No blame is on shedding inhibitions
And how splendid the bygone days at al-Uqab,
And how many scenes were by the red hill and its bridge
وَلَهوٍand revelry أَثَرناهُwe stirred up بِتِلكَin those المَعاطِفِbends
وَلَهوٍ أَثَرناهُ بِتِلكَ المَعاطِفِ
بِسودِwith black أَثيثِluxuriant الشَعرِhair بيضِwhite السَوالِفِsides of the neck
بِسودِ أَثيثِ الشَعرِ بيضِ السَوالِفِ
And the revelry we stirred in those bends,
Where we sat on the red ground of the meadow
With those of luxuriant black hair and white necks;
And a gazelle served us the draft of his wine
إِذاwhen رَفَدواthey gave generously فيin وَشيِthe brocade of تِلكَthose المَطارِفِthe cloaks
إِذا رَفَدوا في وَشيِ تِلكَ المَطارِفِ
فَلَيسَso there is no عَلىfor خَلعِcasting off العِذارِthe bridle مُلامُblame
فَلَيسَ عَلى خَلعِ العِذارِ مُلامُ
When they gave generously in those brocaded cloaks,
Describing my body’s frailty by his slender waist
There is no blame in casting off the bridle.
His roving glances amidst soft singing were arrows
وَكَمand how many مَشهَدٍa scene عِندَbeside العَقيقِal-Aqiq وَجِسرِهِand its bridge
وَكَم مَشهَدٍ عِندَ العَقيقِ وَجِسرِهِ
قَعَدناwe sat عَلىon حُمرِthe red ones of النَباتِthe vegetation وَصُفرِهِand its yellow ones
قَعَدنا عَلى حُمرِ النَباتِ وَصُفرِهِ
And how many scenes beside al-Aqiq and its bridge,
So say to a time whose pleasures have passed
We sat upon the reds and yellows of the vegetation;
And whose traditions have crumbled over the course of nights
وَظَبيٍand a gazelle يُسَقّيناgives us to drink سُلافَةَthe choicest of خَمرِهِhis wine
وَظَبيٍ يُسَقّينا سُلافَةَ خَمرِهِ
حَكىmatched جَسَديmy body فيin السُقمِsickness رِقَّةَthe slenderness of خَصرِهِhis waist
حَكى جَسَدي في السُقمِ رِقَّةَ خَصرِهِ
And a gazelle served us the choicest of his wine;
How much its evening breeze blew gently
My body, in sickness, matched the slenderness of his waist;
And stars appeared to illuminate its night
لَواحِظُهُhis glances عِندَwhen الرُنُوِّgazing سِهامُarrows
لَواحِظُهُ عِندَ الرُنُوِّ سِهامُ
فَقُلso say لِزَمانٍto a time قَدalready تَوَلّىhas departed نَعيمُهُits bliss
فَقُل لِزَمانٍ قَد تَوَلّى نَعيمُهُ
His glances, when he gazes, are arrows.
Upon you from passionate morning greeting, peace
So say to a time whose bliss has departed,
وَرَثَّتand grew worn عَلىwith مَرِّthe passing of اللَياليthe nights رُسومُهُits traces
وَرَثَّت عَلى مَرِّ اللَيالي رُسومُهُ
وَكَمand how often رَقَّgrew gentle فيهِin it بِالعَشِيِّat evening نَسيمُهُits breeze
وَكَم رَقَّ فيهِ بِالعَشِيِّ نَسيمُهُ
And whose traces have grown worn with the passing nights:
How often, in that time, its breeze grew gentle at evening,
وَلاحَتand shone لِساريfor one travelling by اللَيلِnight فيهِin it نُجومُهُits stars
وَلاحَت لِساري اللَيلِ فيهِ نُجومُهُ
عَلَيكَupon you مِنَfrom الصَبِّthe lovesick one المَشوقِthe yearning one سَلامُpeace
عَلَيكَ مِنَ الصَبِّ المَشوقِ سَلامُ
And its stars shone then for the traveller by night;
Peace be upon you from the lovesick, yearning one.
Partial English translation: 45 of 50 Arabic lines translated.
Sol 6.1