أَحَبُّdearer إِلَيَّto me مِنthan وَخدِthe swift stride المَطاياthe riding camels
أَحَبُّ إِلَيَّ مِن وَخدِ المَطايا
بِموماةٍin a trackless desert يَتيهُwanders lost بِهاin it الظَليمُthe male ostrich
بِموماةٍ يَتيهُ بِها الظَليمُ
Dearer to me than the swift stride of riding camels
More dear than camel litters' swaying
Dearer to me than the camels' brisk pace,
Through a trackless desert where the male ostrich wanders lost,
Through arid wastes at set of day
Through a wasteland wherein the male ostrich gets lost;
وَمِنand than نَعتِdescribing الدِيارِthe dwellings وَوَصفِand depicting رَبعٍan abode
وَمِن نَعتِ الدِيارِ وَوَصفِ رَبعٍ
تَلوحُshow بِهِin it عَلىdespite القِدَمِage الرُسومُthe traces
تَلوحُ بِهِ عَلى القِدَمِ الرُسومُ
And than describing dwellings and depicting an abode
Than praising friends and lands displaying
And dearer than praising old ruins and camps,
Whose traces still show despite their age,
Where caravans have lost their way
Where traces faint shimmer, worn down by the past,
رِياضٌgardens بِالشَقائِقِwith anemones مونَقاتٌlovely
رِياضٌ بِالشَقائِقِ مونَقاتٌ
تَكَنَّفَsurrounded نَبتَهاtheir plants نَورٌblossom عَميمُabundant
تَكَنَّفَ نَبتَها نَورٌ عَميمُ
Are gardens lovely with anemones,
Are meadows with anemones lighted
Are gardens adorned with the red anemone,
Their plants surrounded by abundant blossom;
Whose flowers surround in glory bright
Whose verdure is clasped by an ocean of blooms;
كَأَنَّas though بِهاin them الأَقاحيthe daisies حينَwhen تَضحىis in the morning
كَأَنَّ بِها الأَقاحي حينَ تَضحى
عَلَيهاover them الشَمسُthe sun طالِعَةًrising نُجومُstars
عَلَيها الشَمسُ طالِعَةً نُجومُ
As though the daisies there, when in the morning
As sun at dawn shines newly sighted
As though the white daisies, when lit by the forenoon,
The sun rises over them, were stars;
On bubbles in a fountain's height
Reflected the sun like a scattering of stars.
وَمَجلِسِand a gathering فِتيَةٍof young men طابواthey were delightful وَطابَتand were delightful
وَمَجلِسِ فِتيَةٍ طابوا وَطابَت
مَجالِسُهُمtheir gatherings وَطابَand was sweet بِهاin them النَعيمُthe pleasure
مَجالِسُهُم وَطابَ بِها النَعيمُ
And a gathering of young men, delightful themselves, as are
And youths in circle seated gaily
And a gathering of youths—noble souls, noble seats—
Their gatherings, where pleasure too is sweet.
Whose circles and their talk delight
Where pleasure is pure and the company sweet;
تُدارُis passed around عَلَيهُمُto them فيهاin them عُقارٌwine
تُدارُ عَلَيهُمُ فيها عُقارٌ
مُعَتَّقَةٌaged بِهاthrough it يَصبوgrows amorous الحَليمُthe sober-minded man
مُعَتَّقَةٌ بِها يَصبو الحَليمُ
Wine is passed round to them there,
And wine in goblets passing daily
Where wine, rich and vintage, is passed round the circle,
Aged wine that makes even the sober-minded grow amorous.
The gentle pourer serves aright
An aged draft making the prudent yearn young;
كُؤوسٌcups كَالكَواكِبِlike the stars دائِراتٌcircling
كُؤوسٌ كَالكَواكِبِ دائِراتٌ
مَطالِعُهاtheir rising-places عَلىupon الفَلَكِthe celestial sphere الأَديمُthe skin
مَطالِعُها عَلى الفَلَكِ الأَديمُ
Cups like stars circle round,
Like stars on orbit never resting
With cups like the planets that circle in orbit,
Their rising-places upon the sphere are skin.
Their risings on heaven's expanse pendent
Ascending the sky of the palm of the hand.
يُحِثُّhastens بِهاwith them كَخوطِlike a slender shoot of البانِthe bān tree ساقٍa cupbearer
يُحِثُّ بِها كَخوطِ البانِ ساقٍ
لَهُhe has مِنof قَلبِيَmy heart الحَظُّthe share الجَسيمُgreat
لَهُ مِن قَلبِيَ الحَظُّ الجَسيمُ
A cupbearer like a slender bān shoot swiftly passes them round;
A thigh like milk with jewels cresting
It is poured out by one like a lithe willow branch,
He holds a great share of my heart.
Stirs longing in my breast resplendent
Who claims from my heart a miraculous share;
لِطَرفيfor my gaze مِنهُfrom him ميعادٌa tryst بِطَرفٍwith a glance
لِطَرفي مِنهُ ميعادٌ بِطَرفٍ
وَفيand in قَلبيmy heart بِلَحظَتِهِfrom his glance كُلومُwounds
وَفي قَلبي بِلَحظَتِهِ كُلومُ
My gaze has a tryst with a glance from him,
My eyes expect his eyes to meet them
My glance has a tryst with the glance of his eye,
And in my heart are wounds from his glance.
His glance into my heart is sent
Though his gaze leaves my heart with a scattering of wounds.
Sol 6.1