تَفتيرُ عَينَيكَ دَليلٌ عَلى

تَفتيرُ عَينَيكَ دَليلٌ عَلى

أَنَّكَ تَشكو سَهَرَ البارِحَه

أَنَّكَ تَشكو سَهَرَ البارِحَه

The languor of your eyes is a sign

The fluttering of your eyes reveals

The languid drooping of your eyes reveals the sign / That you complain of sleeplessness from yesternight.

That you suffer from last night's sleeplessness.

That you complain of staying up last night

You wear a face of misery and blight / Born of a night you passed in pure delight.

عَلَيكَ وَجهٌ سَيِّئٌ حالُهُ

عَلَيكَ وَجهٌ سَيِّئٌ حالُهُ

مِن لَيلَةٍ بِتَّ بِها صالِحَه

مِن لَيلَةٍ بِتَّ بِها صالِحَه

Your face is in a sorry state

You look terrible, your state

The scent of wine and its pleasures betray, / For the aroma of the vine never hides away.

From a pleasant night you spent.

From a night spent upright

And a maiden with Harut’s magic in her glance, / While the sun inclines to join her in the dance.

رائِحَةُ الخَمرِ وَلَذّاتُها

رائِحَةُ الخَمرِ وَلَذّاتُها

وَالخَمرُ لا تَخفى لَها رائِحَه

وَالخَمرُ لا تَخفى لَها رائِحَه

The scent of wine and its pleasures—

The smell of wine and its pleasures

She strikes the oud with fingertips of art, / Striking a melody that sparks fire in my heart.

And wine has a scent that cannot be hidden.

Wine whose scent cannot be hidden

وَغادَةٍ هاروتُ في طَرفِها

وَغادَةٍ هاروتُ في طَرفِها

وَالشَمسُ في قَرقَرِها جانِحَه

وَالشَمسُ في قَرقَرِها جانِحَه

And a graceful maiden, with Harut in her glance,

And a maiden whose eyes are intoxicated

And the sun inclining within her tunic,

As the sun rises unsteadily

تَستَقدِحُ العودَ بِأَطرافِها

تَستَقدِحُ العودَ بِأَطرافِها

وَنَغمَةٌ في كَبِدي قادِحَه

وَنَغمَةٌ في كَبِدي قادِحَه

Strikes sparks from the lute with her fingertips,

She strikes the lute with her fingertips

And a melody kindles fire in my liver.

A melody ignites my heart