ظَنّي بِهِ حَسَنٌ لَولا تَجَنّيهِ

ظَنّي بِهِ حَسَنٌ لَولا تَجَنّيهِ

وَأَنَّهُ لَيسَ يَرعى حَقَّ حُبّيهِ

وَأَنَّهُ لَيسَ يَرعى حَقَّ حُبّيهِ

I would think well of him, but for his unjust treatment,

I thought well of him, had he not wronged me,

and his failure to honor the claim of my love for him.

And that he does not regard the right of loving me.

لَم يُلهِني عَنهُ ما أَلهاهُ بَل عَذُبَت

لَم يُلهِني عَنهُ ما أَلهاهُ بَل عَذُبَت

عِندي الصَبابَةُ إِذ جُرِّعتُها فيهِ

عِندي الصَبابَةُ إِذ جُرِّعتُها فيهِ

What distracted him did not distract me from him; rather, sweet grew

He did not distract me from him, whatever distracted him,

longing to me, when I was made to drink it for his sake.

Rather, patience tasted sweet to me when I was made to drink it for him.

عَفَّت مَحاسِنُهُ عِندي إِساءَتَهُ

عَفَّت مَحاسِنُهُ عِندي إِساءَتَهُ

حَتّى لَقَد حَسُنَت عِندي مَساويهِ

حَتّى لَقَد حَسُنَت عِندي مَساويهِ

His charms effaced his wrongdoing in my eyes,

His virtues overlooked his wronging me in my eyes

so much so that even his faults became beautiful to me.

To the point that his misdeeds seemed good to me.

هَذا مُحِبُّكَ أَدمى الشَوقُ مُهجَتَهُ

هَذا مُحِبُّكَ أَدمى الشَوقُ مُهجَتَهُ

فَكَيفَ تُنكِرُ أَن تَدمى مَآقيهِ

فَكَيفَ تُنكِرُ أَن تَدمى مَآقيهِ

This is your lover: longing has made his heart bleed;

This is your lover whom longing has bloodied his innermost being,

how, then, can you find it strange that the corners of his eyes bleed?

So how can you deny that his sufferings make you bleed?