أَيَاO عَرَبَArabs of الجَرْعَاءِal-Jar‘ā’ مَنْfrom أَيْمَنِthe right-hand side of الشِّعْبِthe ravine
أَيَا عَرَبَ الجَرْعَاءِ مَنْ أَيْمَنِ الشِّعْبِ
بِكُمْfor you لاَnot بِشَيءٍfor anything غَيْرِكُمْother than you شَغَفُthe passion of الصِّبَّthe lovesick lover
بِكُمْ لاَ بِشَيءٍ غَيْرِكُمْ شَغَفُ الصِّبَّ
O Arabs of al-Jar‘ā’, from the ravine’s right-hand side,
the lovesick lover’s passion is for you, for nothing but you.
أَلَمْdid ... not? تَعِدُونَاyou promise us أَنْthat نَرَاكُمْwe see you بِذِيat Dhū الفَضَاal-Faḍā
أَلَمْ تَعِدُونَا أَنْ نَرَاكُمْ بِذِي الفَضَا
أَظُنُّكُمُI think you تَعْنَونَmean أَنَّthat الغَضَاthe ghada wood قَلْبِيmy heart
أَظُنُّكُمُ تَعْنَونَ أَنَّ الغَضَا قَلْبِي
Did you not promise us we would see you at Dhū al-Faḍā?
I think you mean that the ghada wood is my heart,
غَرَاماًardent love بِكُمْfor you والنَّارُand the fire يَضْرمُهَاkindles it الصَّبَاthe east wind
غَرَاماً بِكُمْ والنَّارُ يَضْرمُهَا الصَّبَا
أَقَولُI say عَلىover نَارِيmy fire بِكُمْbecause of you لِلصَّبَاto the east wind هُبِّيblow!
أَقَولُ عَلى نَارِي بِكُمْ لِلصَّبَا هُبِّي
through ardent love for you, while the east wind fans the fire.
Over my fire for you, I tell the east wind: “Blow!”
وَوَجْدَاًand in longing إذاwhen مِلْتُمْyou incline إليَّtoward me معَwith الهَوَىdesire
وَوَجْدَاً إذا مِلْتُمْ إليَّ معَ الهَوَى
أقولُI say اعتذاراًby way of excuse يَحْسُنُis fitting الميلُswaying للقُضْبِfor the boughs
أقولُ اعتذاراً يَحْسُنُ الميلُ للقُضْبِ
And in longing, when you incline toward me with desire,
I say by way of excuse: “Swaying befits the boughs.”
وَإِنْand if تُوقِدُواyou kindle نَارَthe fire of الحَرِيقِconflagration فَكَمْthen how often أَضَاshone
وَإِنْ تُوقِدُوا نَارَ الحَرِيقِ فَكَمْ أَضَا
وَنَارُand the fire of فُؤادِيmy heart فِيin حَشَاthe breast of الْوَالِهِthe distraught الصِّبِّlovesick lover
وَنَارُ فُؤادِي فِي حَشَا الْوَالِهِ الصِّبِّ
And if you kindle a consuming fire, how often it has shone—
while my heart’s fire is in the breast of the distraught lover.
وَإِنْand if تَجِدُواyou find بِالشِّعْبِin the ravine سَيْلاًa torrent وَلُجَةًand deep water
وَإِنْ تَجِدُوا بِالشِّعْبِ سَيْلاً وَلُجَةً
فَأَنْتُمْthen you بِمَجْرَىin the channel of الدَّمْعِtears يَاO سَاكِنيdwellers in قَلْبِيmy heart
فَأَنْتُمْ بِمَجْرَى الدَّمْعِ يَا سَاكِني قَلْبِي
And if you find a torrent and deep waters in the ravine,
you are in the channel of tears, O dwellers in my heart.
سَبَتْنَاtook us captive الجُفُونُthe eyelids البَابِليَّاتُBabylonian مِنْكُمُof yours
سَبَتْنَا الجُفُونُ البَابِليَّاتُ مِنْكُمُ
وَإِنَّand indeed لُبَانَاتِthe desires of الُّلَباءَةِdiscernment (uncertain) فِيin الحَبِّlove
وَإِنَّ لُبَانَاتِ الُّلَباءَةِ فِي الحَبِّ
Those Babylonian eyelids of yours have taken us captive.
And indeed the discerning mind’s desires in love
نُصَيْصٌunclear as written فَهلاَّthen why not لِلرَقِيبَfor the watcher وَعَاذِلٍand a reprover
نُصَيْصٌ فَهلاَّ لِلرَقِيبَ وَعَاذِلٍ
لِكَيْمَاso that يَبِيتَاboth spend the night فِيin عَذَابٍtorment وَفِيand in نَصْبِweariness
لِكَيْمَا يَبِيتَا فِي عَذَابٍ وَفِي نَصْبِ
are [unclear]—why not for the watcher and a reprover,
so that both may spend the night in torment and weariness?
غَزَالُكُمُyour gazelle ذَاكَthat المُمَنَّعُinaccessible وَصْلُهُunion with him
غَزَالُكُمُ ذَاكَ المُمَنَّعُ وَصْلُهُ
أَبَاحَlaid open حِمىthe sanctuary of دَمْعِىmy tears وَبَالَغَand went to extremes فيin نَهْبىplundering me
أَبَاحَ حِمى دَمْعِى وَبَالَغَ في نَهْبى
That gazelle of yours, union with whom is denied,
has laid open my tears’ sanctuary and plundered me utterly.
هُوَhe الظَّبْىُthe gazelle لاَno بَلْrather صَائِدُa hunter of الظَّبْيِthe gazelle لَحْظُهُhis glance
هُوَ الظَّبْىُ لاَ بَلْ صَائِدُ الظَّبْيِ لَحْظُهُ
وَيَاand oh مَاhow أُحَيْلاَvery sweet الصَّيْدَcapture فيin شَرَكِthe snare of الهُدْبِthe eyelashes
وَيَا مَا أُحَيْلاَ الصَّيْدَ في شَرَكِ الهُدْبِ
He is the gazelle—no, rather, his glance hunts gazelles.
And oh, how sweet is capture in the snare of eyelashes!
حَلاَgrew sweet لَحْظُهُhis glance وَالمُرُّand bitterness فِيin الحُبِّlove وَصْلُهُunion with him
حَلاَ لَحْظُهُ وَالمُرُّ فِي الحُبِّ وَصْلُهُ
وَلَمْand did not تَحْلُgrow sweet حَتَّىuntil مَرَّit passed فِيin رِيقِهِhis saliva العَذْبِsweet
وَلَمْ تَحْلُ حَتَّى مَرَّ فِي رِيقِهِ العَذْبِ
His glance is sweet; union with him is love’s bitterness.
Nor did it grow sweet until it passed through his sweet saliva.
عَلَىover عِطْفِهِhis flank حَتَّىeven مِنَof الوُرْقِthe gray doves غَيْرَتِيmy jealousy
عَلَى عِطْفِهِ حَتَّى مِنَ الوُرْقِ غَيْرَتِي
أَلَمْhave ... not? تَرَهَاyou seen them هَاجَتْthey stirred عَلَىupon الغُصُنِthe branch الرَّطْبِtender
أَلَمْ تَرَهَا هَاجَتْ عَلَى الغُصُنِ الرَّطْبِ
I am jealous over his form, even of the gray doves—
have you not seen them stir upon the tender branch?
فَإِنْand if ذَبَلَتْhave wilted أَجْفَانُهَاher eyelids وَهْيَthough they are نَرْجِسٌnarcissus flowers
فَإِنْ ذَبَلَتْ أَجْفَانُهَا وَهْيَ نَرْجِسٌ
فَمِنْthen from طُوْلِthe length of مَاthe time that أَدْمَنْتُI persisted فِيهِنَّin them مِنْof شُرْبِdrinking
فَمِنْ طُوْلِ مَا أَدْمَنْتُ فِيهِنَّ مِنْ شُرْبِ
And if her eyelids wilt, narcissus flowers though they are,
it is from the long time I have spent drinking from them.
وَمِنْand among عَجَبٍwonders وَهْىَthough they are الكُؤُوُسُthe cups فَمَاthen what لَهَاails them
وَمِنْ عَجَبٍ وَهْىَ الكُؤُوُسُ فَمَا لَهَا
إِذَاwhen كُسِّرَتْthey are broken صَحَّتْthey become sound وَدَارَتْand go round عَلىamong الشَّربِthe drinkers
إِذَا كُسِّرَتْ صَحَّتْ وَدَارَتْ عَلى الشَّربِ
And a wonder: cups as they are, how is it that,
when broken, they become whole and pass among the drinkers?
فَهَلْthen is there عَوْدَةٌa return فِيin لَيْلَةٍa night مِنْof ذَوَابَةٍa tress
فَهَلْ عَوْدَةٌ فِي لَيْلَةٍ مِنْ ذَوَابَةٍ
عَنِabout البَدْرِthe full moon مِنْfrom ظَلْمَائِهَاits darkness دَائِماًalways تُنْبىit tells
عَنِ البَدْرِ مِنْ ظَلْمَائِهَا دَائِماً تُنْبى
Is there, then, a return, in a night of tresses,
that forever tells, from its darkness, of the full moon?
تَرَقَّىascended بِهَاthrough it قَلْبِيmy heart إلىto سِرِّthe secret of وَقْدِهِits burning
تَرَقَّى بِهَا قَلْبِي إلى سِرِّ وَقْدِهِ
سَلاَمٌpeace علىupon مَنْthe one تَحْتَهُbeneath him سُبَحُrosaries of الرَّطْبِmoisture (unclear here)
سَلاَمٌ على مَنْ تَحْتَهُ سُبَحُ الرَّطْبِ
Through it my heart ascended to the secret of its burning.
Peace upon the one beneath whom are rosaries of moisture.
أَرَادَhe wished تَوَلَّىhe took charge of الحَلَّunbinding وَالعَقْدَand binding عِنْدَهُin his presence
أَرَادَ تَوَلَّى الحَلَّ وَالعَقْدَ عِنْدَهُ
فَجَارَso he acted unjustly عَلَىagainst المسَجْوُنِthe prisoner مَنْfrom مُقْتَضَىthe demands of الجَذْبِattraction
فَجَارَ عَلَى المسَجْوُنِ مَنْ مُقْتَضَى الجَذْبِ
He wished, and took charge of loosing and binding in his presence,
then wronged the prisoner, as attraction demanded.
دَعَانيِinvited me انْكِسَارُthe drooping of الجَفْنِthe eyelid مِنْهُof his لِضَمَّةٍto an embrace
دَعَانيِ انْكِسَارُ الجَفْنِ مِنْهُ لِضَمَّةٍ
فَجَاوَبَنِيso he answered me مَاnothing لِلغُصُونِfor the boughs سِوَىexcept الهُضْبِpouring rain
فَجَاوَبَنِي مَا لِلغُصُونِ سِوَى الهُضْبِ
The drooping of his eyelid invited me to an embrace,
so he answered me: “Boughs have nothing but pouring rain.”
وَغَرَّدْتُand I trilled تَغْرِيدَthe trilling of الحَمَامِthe doves تَوَصُّلاًseeking access
وَغَرَّدْتُ تَغْرِيدَ الحَمَامِ تَوَصُّلاً
إليْهِto him لِمَاbecause of what بَيْنَis between الحَمَائِمَthe doves وَالقُضْبِand the boughs
إليْهِ لِمَا بَيْنَ الحَمَائِمَ وَالقُضْبِ
And I trilled as doves trill, seeking a way
to him, through the bond between doves and boughs.
وَقُلْتُand I said زَكَاةُthe alms of الحُسْنِbeauty فَرْضاًa duty فَقَالَthen he said مَاnot
وَقُلْتُ زَكَاةُ الحُسْنِ فَرْضاً فَقَالَ مَا
تَمِيلُbend الغُصُونُthe boughs الوُرْقُleafy إلاَّexcept علىtoward النُّدْبِlamentation
تَمِيلُ الغُصُونُ الوُرْقُ إلاَّ على النُّدْبِ
I said, “Beauty’s alms are a duty.” He said, “Never
do leafy boughs bend except toward lamentation.”
Sol 6.1