هَفاset aflutter بِفُؤاديmy heart مُوهِناًlate at night صَوتa voice صادحa singer
هَفا بِفُؤادي مُوهِناً صَوت صادح
يَنوحlaments عَلىover إِلفa mate عَنfrom البانthe bān trees نازحfar removed
يَنوح عَلى إِلف عَن البان نازح
Late at night, a singer's voice set my heart aflutter,
Lamenting a mate far removed from the bān trees.
يُرددrepeats وَجداًout of longing نوحهُits lament وَحنينهand its yearning
يُردد وَجداً نوحهُ وَحنينه
وَأَصبَحَتand I became مِنfrom وَجديmy longing كَسَكرانlike a drunkard طافحutterly drunk
وَأَصبَحَت مِن وَجدي كَسَكران طافح
In longing, it repeats its lament and yearning,
And my longing made me like a man utterly drunk.
فَنىwas exhausted الدَمthe blood بَعدَafter الدَمعthe tears مِماfrom what سَجمتهُI shed it
فَنى الدَم بَعدَ الدَمع مِما سَجمتهُ
وَرَقَّand grew tender لِحاليtoward my plight كُلُevery واشٍtale-bearer وَكاشحand foe
وَرَقَّ لِحالي كُلُ واشٍ وَكاشح
Blood ran dry after tears, from all I had shed,
And every tale-bearer and foe took pity on my plight.
وَمِنand among شَقوَتيmy misfortunes أَنيthat I بَليتwas afflicted بِغيرةwith jealousy
وَمِن شَقوَتي أَني بَليت بِغيرة
لَهاit has أَلَمٌa pain فيin القَلبthe heart لَيسَis not بارحdeparting
لَها أَلَمٌ في القَلب لَيسَ بارح
And part of my misery is that I am afflicted with jealousy,
Whose pain within the heart never departs.
يَطيبbecomes sweet الرَدىdeath ليto me حينَwhen يَلمَحglimpses ظلshadow مِنone who
يَطيب الرَدى لي حينَ يَلمَح ظل مِن
مَحاeffaced ظَلَّthe shadow شَخصيof my form حُبُهُlove for him طَرفan eye لامحglancing
مَحا ظَلَّ شَخصي حُبُهُ طَرف لامح
Death is sweet to me when the shadow of the one
Whose love effaced my form's shadow is glimpsed by a glancing eye.
وَلَيسَand is not بِمَمنوعforbidden وَإِنeven if مُتُI die حَسرةof grief
وَلَيسَ بِمَمنوع وَإِن مُتُ حَسرة
عَنfrom البَدوthe desert folk إِرسالcasting العُيونeyes الطَوامحyearning
عَن البَدو إِرسال العُيون الطَوامح
Nor, though I die of grief, is it forbidden
For the desert folk to cast longing glances.
فَمِنso who ليfor me بِقَلبwith a heart غَيرother than قَلبيَmy heart يَشتريbuys
فَمِن لي بِقَلب غَير قَلبيَ يَشتري
لِنَفسيَfor myself أَوليتor would that الحمامdeath مَصابِحيmy morning visitor
لِنَفسيَ أَوليت الحمام مَصابِحي
So who will buy me a heart other than my own,
For myself—or would that death were my morning visitor!
هَنيئاًmay they enjoy it لِأَهلfor the people of النارthe Fire فيهاwithin it نَعيمُهُمtheir bliss
هَنيئاً لِأَهل النار فيها نَعيمُهُم
إِذاwhen قيسis compared ماwhat فيهاis within it بِماwith what فيis within جَوانِحيmy ribs
إِذا قيس ما فيها بِما في جَوانِحي
May the people of the Fire enjoy their bliss there,
When what it holds is compared with what lies within my ribs.
Sol 6.1