وَجَدتُI pine ولاand no طِبٌّcure لماfor what أنَاI واجدُfeel
وَجَدتُ ولا طِبٌّ لما أنَا واجدُ
فِهاso here أناI am نِضواًwasted away أشتكيI lament البَثَّanguish والشَّجواand sorrow
فِها أنا نِضواً أشتكي البَثَّ والشَّجوا
I pine, and there is no cure for what I feel.
I found no cure for what ails me,
So here I am, wasted away, lamenting anguish and sorrow.
Though I complain of sadness and distress.
وَميضُthe flash of الهَوىpassion فيin القَلبthe heart يُوجَدُis felt خَفقُهits pulse
وَميضُ الهَوى في القَلب يُوجَدُ خَفقُه
فَماthen what is لجِفُونيwith my eyelids تَشتكيthey complain of ألَمَthe pain of العَدوىcontagion
فَما لجِفُوني تَشتكي ألَمَ العَدوى
The pulse of passion's flash is felt within the heart;
Passion burns within my heart, igniting its throbbing,
Why, then, do my eyelids complain of contagion's pain?
Yet why do my eyelids complain of sickness?
وَهَلand will نَافِعيavail me رِيّthe saturation of الجفونِthe eyelids بِدَمعِهاwith their tears
وَهَل نَافِعي رِيّ الجفونِ بِدَمعِها
إذاwhen كانَis ماwhat بَينَbetween الجَوانِحِthe ribs لاnot يَروىis quenched
إذا كانَ ما بَينَ الجَوانِحِ لا يَروى
And will drenching my eyelids with their tears avail me,
Of what use are their tears, streaming down,
When what lies between my ribs remains unquenched?
When the space between my ribs is never filled?
وَقَدand indeed ذُقتُI have tasted طَعمَthe flavor of الحُبِّlove بَدءاًat first وَعَودَةًand again
وَقَد ذُقتُ طَعمَ الحُبِّ بَدءاً وَعَودَةً
فلَمyet not أدرِI knew هَلwhether مُرَاًbitter تَطَعَّمتُI tasted أمor حُلواsweet
فلَم أدرِ هَل مُرَاً تَطَعَّمتُ أم حُلوا
And I have tasted love's flavor, once and again,
I've tasted the sweet and bitter of love.
Yet I could not tell whether I tasted bitterness or sweetness.
I know not if it was bitter I savored, or sweet.
وَعِيدُa threat of فِراقٍparting فيهِwithin it للوَصلِfor union مَوعدٌa promise
وَعِيدُ فِراقٍ فيهِ للوَصلِ مَوعدٌ
فآونَةًso at times سُكراًintoxication وآونَةًand at times صَحواsobriety
فآونَةً سُكراً وآونَةً صَحوا
A threat of parting holds a promise of union within it;
Parting promises reunion in its turn,
So at times I am drunk, and at times sober.
Now drunkenness, now sobriety.
وَقَفتُI stood بِبَابِat the door of الحِبِّthe beloved وقفةَthe stance of حائرٍone bewildered
وَقَفتُ بِبَابِ الحِبِّ وقفةَ حائرٍ
يؤمِّملhe hopes for ماwhat يَهوىhe desires ويَحذَرُand he fears مَنthe one whom يَهوىhe loves
يؤمِّمل ما يَهوى ويَحذَرُ مَن يَهوى
I stood at the beloved's door like one bewildered,
I stood perplexed at the gate of love,
Hoping for what he desires, yet fearing the one he loves.
Wanting what I love, yet dreading whom I love.
وَهَبتُI gave لَهُto him قَلبيmy heart وسَمعِيand my hearing ونَاظِريand my sight
وَهَبتُ لَهُ قَلبي وسَمعِي ونَاظِري
عَسَىperhaps مُوجبُthe cause of الشَّكوىcomplaint يُزيلُwill remove منsome of الشّكوىthe complaint
عَسَى مُوجبُ الشَّكوى يُزيلُ من الشّكوى
I gave him my heart, my hearing, and my sight,
I gave him my heart, my hearing, my sight,
Perhaps he who causes my suffering will ease some of it.
Hoping that my complaints might banish all complaints.
ودائعُentrusted treasures حُبِّيmy love فيin الفُؤادِthe heart مَصُونَةٌkept safe
ودائعُ حُبِّي في الفُؤادِ مَصُونَةٌ
سِوىexcept for عَبرَةٍa tear تَهِميstreams علىupon جَسَدٍa body يذوىwastes away
سِوى عَبرَةٍ تَهِمي على جَسَدٍ يذوى
My love's treasures are kept safe within my heart,
My love is safe inside my heart,
Save for a tear streaming upon a body wasting away.
Save for tears betraying a body wasted away.
وَفَاتيmy death مُحِبّاًas a lover إنif ظَفِرتُI attain بوَصلهِunion with him
وَفَاتي مُحِبّاً إن ظَفِرتُ بوَصلهِ
وليand I have همّةٌan aspiration تَسمُوthat soars إلىtoward الغَايَةِthe goal القُصوىthe utmost
ولي همّةٌ تَسمُو إلى الغَايَةِ القُصوى
I shall die a lover, if I attain union with him;
I've missed out on love should I attain its union,
And mine is an aspiration soaring toward the utmost goal.
For I have a spirit that aspires to the highest goal.
وَلَوand even if أنَّهthat he أومىbeckoned إليَّto me بِمِيتَةٍto death
وَلَو أنَّه أومى إليَّ بِمِيتَةٍ
لبَادَرتُI would surely hasten نحوَtoward المَوتِdeath طَوعاًwillingly ولوeven if حَبوَاcrawling
لبَادَرتُ نحوَ المَوتِ طَوعاً ولو حَبوَا
And even if he beckoned me to death,
And if he hinted that I should die for him,
I would hasten willingly toward death, even crawling.
I would rush to death willingly, eagerly.
Sol 6.1