لاَdo not تَلُمْblame صَبْوَتِيmy passion فَمَنْfor whoever حَبَّloves يَصْبُوyearns
لاَ تَلُمْ صَبْوَتِي فَمَنْ حَبَّ يَصْبُو
إِنَّمَاonly يَرْحَمُhas mercy on المُحِبَّthe lover المُحِبُّthe lover
إِنَّمَا يَرْحَمُ المُحِبَّ المُحِبُّ
Do not blame my passion, for whoever loves yearns.
Only a lover has mercy on a lover.
كَيْفَhow لاnot يُوقِدُkindles النَّسِيمُthe breeze غَرَامِيmy passion
كَيْفَ لا يُوقِدُ النَّسِيمُ غَرَامِي
وَلَهُand it has فِيin خِيَامِthe tents of لَيْلَىLayla مَهَبُّa place of blowing
وَلَهُ فِي خِيَامِ لَيْلَى مَهَبُّ
How could the breeze not kindle my passion,
When it blows among Layla's tents?
مَاwhat اعْتِذَارِيmy excuse إِذَاif خَبَتْdies down لِيَfor me نَارٌa fire
مَا اعْتِذَارِي إِذَا خَبَتْ لِيَ نَارٌ
وَحَبِيبيand my beloved أَنْوَارُهُhis lights لَيْسَdo not تَخْبُوfade
وَحَبِيبي أَنْوَارُهُ لَيْسَ تَخْبُو
What excuse have I if my fire dies down,
While my beloved's lights never fade?
هَذِهِthis الحُلَّةُthe robe التَّيwhich حُلَّwas untied فِيَهاin it
هَذِهِ الحُلَّةُ التَّي حُلَّ فِيَها
عَقْدُthe knot of صَبْرِيmy patience وَحَلَّهَاand unfastened it لِيَfor me حِبُّa beloved
عَقْدُ صَبْرِي وَحَلَّهَا لِيَ حِبُّ
This is the robe in which was untied
The knot of my patience; a beloved unfastened it for me.
مَلأَfilled الكَوْنَthe universe حُسْنُهُhis beauty فَلِهَذَاand therefore
مَلأَ الكَوْنَ حُسْنُهُ فَلِهَذَا
كُلُّevery قَلْبٍheart إلىtoward مَعَانِيهِhis meanings يَصْبُوyearns
كُلُّ قَلْبٍ إلى مَعَانِيهِ يَصْبُو
His beauty filled the universe, and therefore
Every heart yearns toward his meanings.
عَايَنَتْbeheld حُسْنَهُhis beauty القُلُوبُthe hearts فَأَمْسَىand so he became
عَايَنَتْ حُسْنَهُ القُلُوبُ فَأَمْسَى
وَلَهُand he has فِيin القُلُوبِthe hearts سَلْبٌplunder وَنَهْبُand pillage
وَلَهُ فِي القُلُوبِ سَلْبٌ وَنَهْبُ
Hearts beheld his beauty, and now
His is the plunder and pillage of hearts.
نَصَبُواthey set up حَانَthe tavern of حُبِّهِhis love ثُمَّthen نَادُوْاthey called out
نَصَبُوا حَانَ حُبِّهِ ثُمَّ نَادُوْا
يَاO نِيَامَsleepers القُلُوبِof heart لِلرَّاحِfor the wine هُبُواrise!
يَا نِيَامَ القُلُوبِ لِلرَّاحِ هُبُوا
They set up the tavern of his love, then cried:
"O you with sleeping hearts, rise for the wine!"
بِنْتُdaughter of كَرْمٍa vine زُفَّتْwas led as a bride لِكُلِّto every كَرَيمٍnoble man
بِنْتُ كَرْمٍ زُفَّتْ لِكُلِّ كَرَيمٍ
مَاnothing عَلَىfor نَفْسِهِhis soul النَّفِيسَةِprecious صَعْبُdifficult
مَا عَلَى نَفْسِهِ النَّفِيسَةِ صَعْبُ
The vine's daughter was led as a bride to every noble man
For whose precious soul nothing is too hard.
رَاحَhe became لِلرَّاحِto wine وَالخَلاَعَةِand wantonness عَبْداًa slave
رَاحَ لِلرَّاحِ وَالخَلاَعَةِ عَبْداً
وَهَوْwhile he فِيin مَذْهَبِthe doctrine of الحَقيقَةِTruth رَبُّa lord
وَهَوْ فِي مَذْهَبِ الحَقيقَةِ رَبُّ
He became a slave to wine and wantonness,
Yet in the doctrine of Truth he is a lord.
Sol 6.1