وَشادن تُدار مِن

وَشادن تُدار مِن

أَحداقِهِ أَقداحُنا

أَحداقِهِ أَقداحُنا

And a young gazelle—passed around from

Our cups are refilled

his eyes are our goblets.

From his eager eyes

كَأَنَّهُ رَيحانة

كَأَنَّهُ رَيحانة

تَشمها أَرواحَنا

تَشمها أَرواحَنا

As though he were a sprig of sweet basil

As though with basil

whose fragrance our souls inhale.

Our souls breathe his sighs