يا مُعرِضاً نَفسي الفِدا

يا مُعرِضاً نَفسي الفِدا

ءُ وَقَلَّ ذَلِكَ مُعرِضا

ءُ وَقَلَّ ذَلِكَ مُعرِضا

O you who turn away, my soul is your ransom—

O you who turn away from me, I sacrifice myself

O you who turns away, my soul is your ransom,

and even that is little, O aloof one.

And you barely turn away

And even that is little for one who turns away.

أَكَذا سَريعاً صارَ حَب

أَكَذا سَريعاً صارَ حَب

لُكَ سَيِّدي مُتَنَقَّضا

لُكَ سَيِّدي مُتَنَقَّضا

Has your cord so swiftly

Has your love for me, my master, really vanished so quickly?

Is it thus, so swiftly, that your bond,

come undone, my master?

You hate me, my master, though I love you, even when hated

My master, has come to be undone?

أَبغَضتَني يا سَيِّدي

أَبغَضتَني يا سَيِّدي

أَفديكَ حِبّاً مُبغِضا

أَفديكَ حِبّاً مُبغِضا

You have come to hate me, my master;

I remain fasting from your anger

You have loathed me, O my master;

I would ransom you, beloved though you hate me.

Until satisfaction breaks my fast

I ransom you, a beloved who loathes.

لا زِلتُ صائِمَ سُخطِكُم

لا زِلتُ صائِمَ سُخطِكُم

حَتّى يُفَطِّرُني الرِضا

حَتّى يُفَطِّرُني الرِضا

May I remain fasting under your displeasure

How strange is one who blames a lover

I cease not to fast upon your wrath,

until your favor breaks my fast.

If he loved or hated

Until your contentment breaks my fast.

عَجَباً لِمَن لامَ المُحِب

عَجَباً لِمَن لامَ المُحِب

بَ أَما أَحَبَّ وَأُبغِضا

بَ أَما أَحَبَّ وَأُبغِضا

How strange the one who reproaches a lover!

He sees his path before me

Wonder be to him who blames the lover;

Has he not loved and been hated,

As his path in times gone by

Has he never loved nor been loathed?

فَيَرى سَبيلَهُما لَدَي

فَيَرى سَبيلَهُما لَدَي

يَ سَبيلَهُ فيما مَضى

يَ سَبيلَهُ فيما مَضى

so he might see the course of both in me

Or it was a separation he didn't know about

So that he sees their path within me,

as his own course in days gone by?

And so it came to an end

Just as his path was in times past.

أَو كانَ خِلواً لَيسَ يَد

أَو كانَ خِلواً لَيسَ يَد

ري ذا وَذَلِكَ فَاِنقَضى

ري ذا وَذَلِكَ فَاِنقَضى

Or was he free of love, not knowing

I stay up while he sleeps

Or if he was heart-free, knowing not

this or that—and so it came to an end?

When I stay up while he slumbers

Of this and that, then let it pass.

لي صَبوَةٌ وَلَهُ السُلُو

لي صَبوَةٌ وَلَهُ السُلُو

وُ إِذا سَهِرتُ وَغَمَّضا

وُ إِذا سَهِرتُ وَغَمَّضا

Mine is longing, and his is forgetfulness:

Mine is the passion and his is the solace,

when I lie awake while he closes his eyes.

When I keep vigil and he shuts his eyes.