ظَبيٌa gazelle يَتيهُglories بِوِردِهِin his rosy bloom فيin خَدِّهِhis cheek
ظَبيٌ يَتيهُ بِوِردِهِ في خَدِّهِ
خَدٌّa cheek عَلَيهِupon it غَلائِلٌfine veils مِنof وَردِهِits roses
خَدٌّ عَلَيهِ غَلائِلٌ مِن وَردِهِ
A gazelle who glories in the rose upon his cheek—
a cheek draped in fine veils of its roses.
ماnot كُنتُI was أَحسِبُI think أَنَّthat ليfor me مُستَمتَعاًa source of delight
ما كُنتُ أَحسِبُ أَنَّ لي مُستَمتَعاً
فيin قُربِهِhis nearness حَتّىuntil بُليتُI was afflicted بِبُعدِهِby his distance
في قُربِهِ حَتّى بُليتُ بِبُعدِهِ
I had not thought there was delight for me
in his nearness, until I was afflicted by his distance.
لاno شَيءَthing أَحسَنُlovelier مِنهُthan him لَيلَةَon the night of وَصِلناour union
لا شَيءَ أَحسَنُ مِنهُ لَيلَةَ وَصِلنا
وَقَدand already اِتَخَذتُI had made مَخَدَّةًa pillow مِنof خَدِّهِhis cheek
وَقَد اِتَخَذتُ مَخَدَّةً مِن خَدِّهِ
Nothing was lovelier than he was on the night of our union,
when I had made a pillow of his cheek,
وَفَميand my mouth عَلىupon فَمِهِhis mouth يُسامِرُconverses by night with ريقَهُhis saliva
وَفَمي عَلى فَمِهِ يُسامِرُ ريقَهُ
وَيَديand my hand تَنَزَّهُstrolls فيin حَدائِقِthe gardens of جِلدِهِhis skin
وَيَدي تَنَزَّهُ في حَدائِقِ جِلدِهِ
and my mouth upon his mouth conversed by night with his saliva,
and my hand strolled through the gardens of his skin.
Sol 6.1