وَمُستَوجِبٍand one deserving لِلحُبِّof love شَتّىmanifold غَرائِبُهُhis marvels
وَمُستَوجِبٍ لِلحُبِّ شَتّى غَرائِبُهُ
يُدِلُّacts presumptuously بِحُسنٍby virtue of beauty ماnot تَقَضّىcome to an end عَجائِبُهits wonders
يُدِلُّ بِحُسنٍ ما تَقَضّى عَجائِبُه
And one deserving of love, whose marvels are manifold,
Presumes upon a beauty whose wonders never end.
وَقَدand indeed جَرَحَتwounded عَيناهُhis two eyes قَلبيmy heart فَأَصبَحَتso became
وَقَد جَرَحَت عَيناهُ قَلبي فَأَصبَحَت
مُكَلَّمَةًwounded أَوساطُهُits central parts وَجَوانِبُهand its sides
مُكَلَّمَةً أَوساطُهُ وَجَوانِبُه
And his eyes have wounded my heart, so now
Its center and its sides lie wounded.
يَرىhe sees أَنَّthat عَطفيmy affection قَدhas أَحاطَclosed around بِصَدِّهِhis rejection
يَرى أَنَّ عَطفي قَد أَحاطَ بِصَدِّهِ
مُلِحّاًinsistent عَلَيهِupon him كالغَريمِlike a creditor يُطالِبُهdemands payment from him
مُلِحّاً عَلَيهِ كالغَريمِ يُطالِبُه
He sees that my affection has hemmed in his rejection,
Pressing him like a creditor demanding his due.
تَأَنَّيتُهُI waited patiently for him حيناًfor a while فَلَمّاthen when رَأَيتُهُI saw him
تَأَنَّيتُهُ حيناً فَلَمّا رَأَيتُهُ
إِذاwhenever اِزدادَgrew more ليناًin softness جانِبيmy side عَزَّgrew unyielding جانِبُهhis side
إِذا اِزدادَ ليناً جانِبي عَزَّ جانِبُه
I waited patiently for him awhile; then, when I saw that
Whenever my side grew softer, his grew harder,
ذَخَرتُI stored up لَهُfor him فيin الصَدرِthe breast مِنيof mine مَوَدَّةًaffection
ذَخَرتُ لَهُ في الصَدرِ مِني مَوَدَّةً
وَخَلَّيتُand I withdrew عَنهُfrom him مُهمَلاًunattended لاnot أُعاتِبُهI reproach him
وَخَلَّيتُ عَنهُ مُهمَلاً لا أُعاتِبُه
I stored affection for him within my own breast,
And left him alone, unheeded, without reproaching him.
فَلَمso did not يَبقَremain مِنهُof him فيin يَديmy hand غَيرُexcept خَصلَةٍa single thing
فَلَم يَبقَ مِنهُ في يَدي غَيرُ خَصلَةٍ
أَرومُI seek بِهاthrough it ماwhat لاnot تُرامُcan be sought مَطالِبُهits objects of desire
أَرومُ بِها ما لا تُرامُ مَطالِبُه
So nothing of him remained in my hand but one thing,
Through which I seek what no pursuit can attain:
رَجاءٌhope كَشِبهِlike a semblance of اليأَسِdespair أَمسىhas come to يَقوتُنيnourish me
رَجاءٌ كَشِبهِ اليأَسِ أَمسى يَقوتُني
أَذُبُّI ward off بِهِwith it عَنّيfrom me الرَدىdeath وَأُغالِبُهand I struggle against it
أَذُبُّ بِهِ عَنّي الرَدى وَأُغالِبُه
A hope akin to despair, which now nourishes me;
With it I ward death off from myself and struggle against it.
Sol 6.1