شعركyour hair كساهclothed it النورthe light ماdid not باجpierce ظلماهits darkness
شعرك كساه النور ما باج ظلماه
وخدّكand your cheek غشاهveiled it الليلthe night ماdid not غابfade نورهits light
وخدّك غشاه الليل ما غاب نوره
Light clothed your hair, yet did not pierce its darkness.
Your poetry is clothed in light, it does not harbor darkness
And night veiled your cheek, yet its light did not fade.
And your cheek is covered by the night, its light does not fade
فـin .. عيونكyour eyes جنودtroops .. وبواريدand rifles ورماهand marksmen
فـ .. عيونك جنود .. وبواريد ورماه
غزوa raiding force .. ورمشكand your lashes صارbecame مقدمthe leader of سبورهits scouts
غزو .. ورمشك صار مقدم سبوره
In your eyes are troops, rifles, and marksmen.
So... your eyes are armies... and veins and targets
A raiding force—and your lashes have become its scouts' leader.
Invasion... and your eyelashes became the vanguard of its brigade
صبّحattacked at dawn بهupon him الليthe one whose دالهunwary القلبthe heart بحماهin his refuge
صبّح به اللي داله القلب بحماه
قبلbefore النذيرthe warning .. وقبلand before يملكcontrols شعورهhis senses
قبل النذير .. وقبل يملك شعوره
It struck at dawn the one whose heart lay unwary in his refuge,
It brings the morning to whoever's heart it has afflicted with love
Before the warning came, and before he could gather his wits.
Before the warner... and before he can control his passion
أناI الصويبthe wounded one الليwhose غشتcovered صدرهhis chest دماهhis blood
أنا الصويب اللي غشت صدره دماه
شلفاthe spear of عيونكyour eyes هشمتshattered مشthe soft bone of زورهhis chest
شلفا عيونك هشمت مش زوره
I am the wounded one whose blood has covered his chest.
I am the one who rightly covered his chest with blood
The spear of your eyes shattered his breastbone.
Ask your eyes, they have destroyed, they do not lie
يامنO you who يبيwants ذبحيmy slaughter .. وأبيand I want منعquarter لاماهnot water
يامن يبي ذبحي .. وأبي منع لاماه
روحٍa soul شكتcomplained of ظلمكyour cruelty تراهاyou see, it is معذورهjustified
روحٍ شكت ظلمك تراها معذوره
O you who wish to slay me—I ask for quarter, not water.
O you who wishes to slay me, and I wish to forbid injustice
A soul that has complained of your cruelty is surely justified.
A soul that complained of your tyranny, you see, she is excused
Sol 6.1